Chapter Nine
The corner of her cell clicked against the wood of her desk, click, click, click, as Kennedy turned it restlessly in her hand. The urge to talk to Vincent had been riding her hard since yesterday. She could still feel the ghost of Isaac’s rope on her wrist, but the tingles shooting across her skin at the memory weren’t ghosts—they were all too real, and terrifying. She wasn’t that girl, the one who surrendered, the one who crawled on her knees and let her “master” control her. She wasn’t.
Even the image was rather hypocritical. She knew from talking to Jane that her best friend’s relationship with Vincent wasn’t anything like the humiliation Kennedy pictured whenever BDSM came to mind. They didn’t discuss details, but one thing Jane had been firm on: Vincent treated her with respect and care—anything else would be unacceptable to her friend. And unacceptable to Vincent as well, Kennedy knew.
So why couldn’t she shake her view of submission?
Isaac’s impact was undeniable. Her body tingled in all the right places just thinking about him and his cocky grin, his sexy accent, the view of his wide, muscular back that morning at the spa that she just couldn’t seem to banish. Staying on an even professional keel with that image in her head and the real thing in front of her? Impossible. And as much as she’d like to think she could avoid him, she knew better than to lie to herself. If she couldn’t stop herself from googling him, she couldn’t stop herself from seeking him out. Or saying no when he sought her out.
She needed help, damn it. And only one person that she knew would understand.
“Fuck it.” Righting the phone, she navigated to her brother’s name and clicked Call. Her gaze drifted to the computer screen while she waited, to the close-up of Isaac from his website, his blond good looks almost as powerful in the still photo as they were in person. The details of his career had been even more impressive than she’d known: First hit single four years ago. Nonstop touring and recording since. Six top-ten hits and one platinum and two gold albums. None of it surprised her. No one could look into those eyes and believe Isaac was anything but serious about his career. He carried a driven aura she admired, and yet the peek she’d gotten at the tattoo on his back and his flirting confirmed that there was something of the surfer boy in him as well, didn’t it?
She shouldn’t want to examine the contradictions of the man, but the need to do just that ate at her constantly.
Vincent answered on the fourth ring. “Hey, what’s up, Ken?”
It had been almost eighteen months since Vinny had gotten together with her best friend, Jane James. Every time Kennedy heard the happiness smoothing out his gruff voice, gratitude filled her heart. The two people she loved most in the world had each other, had the kind of home and relationship she and Vinny had dreamed about growing up in boarding schools and constant chaos.
Well, not exactly the kind of relationship they’d dreamed about as children—who knew her brother would grow up to be a Dom? Or that her best friend would become his submissive?
Her amusement at that thought lightened her words. “Hey, big bro! Just calling to check up. How’s Jane?”
“She’s in time-out.” His chuckle told her Jane’s time-out didn’t include a chair in the corner.
“Ew! Stop telling me about your dirty sex games with my best friend, pervert!”
“Hey, if I’m a pervert—”
A squeal of outrage could be heard in the background—Jane protesting Vinny’s choice of topic, maybe?
She rolled her eyes at her brother’s laughter. Siblings and their oversharing… Time for a change of subject.
“So, a friend of yours is staying with us right now.”
Her brother’s voice sharpened, turning from playtime to real time. “Who?”
“Isaac Anschau.”
“Ike?”
Real pleasure filled the name.
Is that how I sounded when I said his name?
Shut up.
“Really.” She picked up a pen from her desk, idly twirling it between her fingers and hoping her voice sounded just as casual when she mentioned, “He’s staying at Sovereign before his Vegas concert late next week.”
“He’s been on a smokin’-hot streak lately. That concert’s been sold out for months.”
“That’s a lot of fans.” As if she didn’t already know how many scantily clad women would kill for the chance to throw themselves at him.
Aren’t you one of them?
“Yeah. Work hard, play hard; that’s Ike’s motto.”
She snorted. “That’s every bad-boy rocker’s motto.”
“Well, not everyone.” Vinny’s tone held the residue of both anger and sadness, tugging at her heart. She knew Weekend Washout had gone through a hard time with their lead singer recently, going off on a world tour of his own with a new boyfriend, leaving the band high and dry in the meantime. Now that Washout was back on an even keel, they were moving forward with a new album, but it had taken time to fix what Chad Rezler had almost destroyed.
“Is Ike giving you the runaround over there then?” Vincent asked.
Kennedy cleared her throat. God, did she even want to open this door? Once on the scent, Vinny could be like a dog with a bone. But…she needed to talk to someone. “No more so than the usual entitled rocker,” she teased, forcing the words out through a tight throat. Her brother’s laugh filled her ears.
She cleared her throat again. “He’s actually been great.”
The pause on the line made her groan inwardly. Dog. Bone.
Hell.
“Great, huh?” The gruff who’s-been-messing-with-my-little-sister tone had her swallowing hard. “He’s not pulling anything with you, is he? Because I can come over there and ki—”
She sputtered. “Vinny…”
“Spill, Ken.”
Grateful they weren’t on video chat, she rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing to spill, really.”
“And that right there tells me there is.”
Her breath huffed out on a laugh. “Is that so?”
“That’s so.”
The trace of amusement in Vincent’s voice soothed her frazzled nerves. “We’ve just been hanging out together, that’s all.”
“Let me guess,” he said. “You found out he’s a little more like me than you were bargaining for, didn’t you?”
She rubbed at the throbbing along her brow.
“We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, Ken, but I’m thinking you called because you want to. And we can. Totally up to you.”
“There’s really nothing to talk about, is there?” A sigh emptied her lungs. “He’s a…something…”
“A Dom.”
“And I’m not a…”
“A sub.”
“Stop putting words in my mouth!”
“If they’re the right words, who cares which one of us says them?”
“You’re infuriating, you know that?”
Her brother’s chuckle raised her temper even more. “But you love me anyway.”
He was right; she did. But she didn’t have to admit it right this moment. “He’s my client, Vin. Not…well, not anything else.”
“Not yet, but you wouldn’t call me, this wouldn’t even be on your radar if something wasn’t happening between you. So talk.”
Sometimes she didn’t know whether to punch her brother or hug him. Since they weren’t in the same room, neither was an option, but really, what was the point of prolonging the agony? So she talked. No matter how clinical and objective she tried to be as she described her interactions with Isaac, even she could hear the emotions lurking beneath the words. Emotions she didn’t want to acknowledge any more than she did her brother’s response: “And?”
“And what?”
Vincent grunted.
After a moment a grin surfaced. Yeah, she hadn’t believed that either, but it hadn’t hurt to try.
“How do you feel about him being a rigger?”
“I don’t feel anything. He’s a Dom, and I’m…”
“Not a sub.”
No way in hell. She’d spent enough years subject to every whim her parents could come up with; she wouldn’t let someone else have that much control over her sexuality or her life. So why did Isaac’s sexy gaze arouse so much interest?
Isaac’s gaze should’ve been her first clue to his nature. Those eyes spoke of taking control and keeping it, and most women would drop their panties and kneel at his feet.
Walk away, Kennedy.
“There’s more than one kind of us, you know.”
Of course she knew. “You mean you’re not all just meanies barking orders and beating on people?” She grinned, waiting for the explosion.
Instead Vincent laughed. “Something like that.” Then his tone went serious. “As a Dom, Isaac’s not into pain and canes and torture. But I suspect that’s not really what you’re worried about.”
“What else would I be worried about?”
A sigh echoed through the line, part how do I explain this and part why did I get stuck with the not so smart sibling? “Maybe that you are more interested in submission than you want to admit.”
“No.” No way in hell—again. “I am not interested in subjugating myself to some man.”
“Is that what you think Jane does?”
Shame washed through her. “No. No it’s not. I’m sorry.” But that didn’t mean she wanted whatever Jane had found in her relationship with Vincent. So why did the idea of Isaac binding her wrists in rope send simultaneous zings of pleasure and panic across her nerve endings?
Because he’s sexy as hell and you want him to touch you?
Touch her, yes, but dominate her?
The mix of heat in her core and churning in her belly wasn’t pleasant. Being bound might look pretty, but to be helpless, totally at someone else’s control…
She shivered. Whether in arousal or fear, she refused to examine.
“I can practically hear your thoughts buzzing through the phone, Sis.”
She dropped her chin, hiding her face despite the fact that she was alone in the room.
“Whether you can accept it for yourself or not,” Vincent said, “BDSM is not about giving up control to someone else; it’s about exchanging power. You choose to give your power over to another, within a set of negotiated parameters. The sub chooses, and that means the sub is ultimately the one in control.”
The nuance wasn’t something she could wrap her head around—and yet she couldn’t deny that Isaac drew her like no man had, ever.
“Ultimately what you decide is up to you.”
Not really. “He’s a client, Vinny. The risk…”
“He’s a client, and I’m sure you will do the same fantastic job with him that you do with every guest who walks through your door. That was never in doubt.
“But you’re also a woman, Ken. You wouldn’t be calling me if you didn’t give a shit about him.”
“I—” Her fist clenched around her phone. “I don’t know, Vinny. I don’t know what to do.”
“Think about it. That’s all you have to do. You’re not in a long-term relationship. But he’s a good man; you can trust him. If you’re interested, do you really want to let fear hold you back?”
Never. She’d decided that the minute she’d left her parents’ care for good. “I love you, you know.”
“I love you too. And I believe in you. You can do anything you want, Sis. Just go in with your eyes open.”