Deciding to take Sine to Gilded Cage felt right in a way that made me more than a little nervous. My friends and I didn’t bring girls to the club, but after Erik had broken the ice and brought Tanya, we’d assured him we didn’t mind.

Which meant it wouldn’t be an issue for any of the rest of us to do the same. Not that this was the same. This was just business, I’d promised myself.

That promise lasted until I knocked on the door and Sine opened it.

Shit.

Fuck.

I hadn’t told her how to dress because I honestly hadn’t thought of it, but if I had, I never would have imagined this.

She wore no make-up, but the fresh-faced look worked for her. Her curls were as wild as they ever were, and I liked that she hadn’t tried to tame them. Comfortable-looking flats kept her at five feet, which made me remember how delicate she’d felt underneath me. Then I processed the rest of the outfit.

She was wearing shorts, but not some dressy khaki kind of things, or the baggy gym shorts she’d worn the last time I was here. They were short, ending just below her ass, but so tight that she could bend over without flashing anyone. Her shirt was made of the same clingy material, molding to her slim frame and those firm, high breasts. The neckline wasn’t low, and where we were going, she’d be one of the more conservatively dressed patrons, but she would, without a doubt, draw attention. Men like me – or women like me, for that matter – would be enchanted by her.

Shit.

I didn’t want anyone else looking at her. She was mine to look at.

No, not mine, I reminded myself. We’d made that clear. We weren’t together. This was research so she’d feel comfortable doing the series.

Employer-employee. Photographer and model.

No matter what happened at the club, I would keep it professional. Even if that meant I had to threaten to beat the shit out of a few people. Professionally, of course.

“Is there something wrong with the way I’m dressed?”

I jerked my head up. “Why would you say that?”

“Because you’re staring at me.” She crossed her arms, drawing attention to her breasts, and making me suddenly need to adjust myself.

“Trust me,” I said with a wry smile, “where we’re going, I won’t be the only one staring.”

* * *

We went in the middle of the week, partly because I figured the chances of the guys being here was smaller than it’d be on a weekend. I didn’t want to try to explain to them who Sine was. I’d seen what happened when Tanya had come to the club when she had been Erik’s editor. Erik had claimed her, right then and there, and nothing he said after that mattered. She was his, even if he hadn’t been willing to admit it yet.

I wasn’t sure what I would do if faced with the same situation, and I didn’t think I wanted to find out. Sine and I had an understanding, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that.

Still, as we made our way through the club to one of the tables at the back, I found my hand hovering over the small of her back, my instinct to protect more than guide. And hidden under that, my need to let everyone here know that she was with me.

Okay, maybe not so hidden.

“We’re going to sit back there,” I said, leaning down so I could speak in her ear without having to shout. “Let you get a good look at things.”

She was already looking, I knew. From the moment we walked inside, she hadn’t stopped looking. She didn’t seem freaked out by any of it, not even when Eloise and her partner, Big Cindy, walked by in their matching leather corsets and nipple rings. Most first-timers were easy to spot. They either came in all wide-eyed and blushing, or were all swagger and arrogance.

Sine was neither.

It wasn’t until I settled into the booth next to her that I realized what it was. She was paying attention. To everything. As a photographer, I knew what it was to observe, to see the world without getting involved, but I hadn’t seen it from someone else. She was mentally taking notes, filing away whatever she found interesting.

“Is there anything specific you want me to focus on?” She leaned closer to speak, but didn’t look at me. “Something you have in mind for your photo line?”

Right, the photo series. The reason we’re here.

“I have a few things in mind,” I admitted, shifting into work mode. “Nothing with the clothing.” I glanced sideways at her. “I prefer what you wear.”

A faint flush spread across her cheeks. “You said you didn’t want to only explore bondage, right?”

I nodded. “I’m thinking of this as a sort of juxtaposition between the stereotypes of BDSM and how things really work.”

She turned to me at last, curiosity rather than desire in her eyes. “Show me.”

I stood and held out a hand. She took it, and I kept my fingers curled around hers. We moved around the edge of the dance floor, and I swiped my VIP card across the card reader next to the door.

When we stepped into the room and closed the door behind us, the music faded, and I was made painfully aware that we were alone. In a room with a bed. Again.

To distract myself from how tight my jeans had become, I walked across the room to the wall where a series of whips, floggers, and crops hung.

“Every Dom who uses these has to know exactly how to use them and what sort of damage they each inflict, as well as what their Subs need.” I ran my fingers over a couple of the items. “Subs aren’t the only ones who need to be trained. Doms need it too. A man or woman who picks up one of these things without thoroughly understanding the responsibility they have can hurt someone.”

“So, where society sees abuse and a loss of control...”

I turned as she walked toward me. “The reality is about power, pleasure, and being in control. About knowing what someone else needs, and the two of you coming together to find a connection that provides you both with what you require.”

Even as I said it, I could see the way the light in her eyes flared, the hunger when I talked about power and pleasure and control. I felt it in her body when we were together but hadn’t completely recognized it as the counterbalance to what I needed for myself. Not until now.

I watched her as she approached the wall, as her hands traced along each item, her eyes studying every line. With the same dedication she’d shown as my assistant, the same scrutiny she’d had in the main room of the club, she looked at and cataloged everything. She would approach being a Sub the same way.

Dammit.

I didn’t want to follow her rules. I wanted my photos, but I wanted her too.

I needed to be smart about it though, or I’d lose everything.