Bree stood stock-still, trying to assimilate what she was seeing.

“You brought me to a sex club?”

Carter took her hand and led her farther into the room, which looked to be a massive warehouse with high ceilings, low lighting, and every manner of expensive fetish furniture. The walls were painted a rich red, resembling a boudoir built for some billionaire sheikh.

Since her first question had clearly been rhetorical—there was no denying he’d brought her to a sex club—she lobbed another at him. One she definitely wanted answered.

“You own a sex club?”

“Yes. I do.”

As far as responses went, that one was far too simple and unsatisfying. “Why?”

He grinned at her. “Because it’s profitable.”

Bree rolled her eyes. “You don’t really expect me to buy that, do you?”

“I’ve never hidden my desire for wealth. Or control. I like being my own boss, Bree. The first few years after you left, I put all my energy and attention into the bar, but once I had the right people in place, it ran like a well-oiled machine. There was no challenge to it. I went out for drinks one night with my friend David and we came up with the concept of 220.”

“I’m surprised by the high level of security. Is that normal for a sex club?”

Carter shook his head. “No. 220 has been operating for six years. In that time, it’s made a serious name for itself as being one of the premiere BDSM clubs in the city. We cater to the extremely wealthy, those interested in the lifestyle but who—due to their public image or positions—need to keep those desires private.”

“Politicians?” she asked.

“As well as actors and CEOs. We even have a certain prince who stops by whenever he’s in the country.”

“What does Reed think of your sex club?”

“He doesn’t know.”

Bree was surprised by that answer. Carter and his cousin were closer than brothers. “Really?”

“The truth is, there are very few people who actually know I own this business, even though 220 is, by far, much more lucrative than Donovan’s. Let’s just say I enjoy keeping certain aspects of my life personal.”

“You play here?”

He nodded without hesitation. Despite their long estrangement, Bree was pleased by the fact they could fall into their same open, honest relationship. She never questioned anything Carter told her because, to her knowledge, he’d never lied to her. Not once.

“I do. Or”—he paused for just a moment—“I did.”

Bree looked around the room, trying to take in everything. She had an academic knowledge of BDSM, but nothing practical or hands-on. She’d read books, watched movies, done a bit of Internet research—simply out of curiosity—and spoken in depth to a Parisian girlfriend one night who was very deep into the scene.

“Your past tense is for me.”

Carter wrapped his arm around her waist, tucking her close so that he could whisper in her ear. “Anything and everything I did prior to tonight is past tense. My only plan for the future is you.”

“And if I want to play here?”

“We will.”

“And if I don’t?”

He placed a light kiss on her cheek, amused by her questions. “We won’t.”

“Let me guess,” she said sardonically. “You’re always the Dom.”

“I’ve spent a great deal of time here, finding play partners, women who enjoy being on the receiving end of my crop.” Carter was watching her face very closely. She knew him well enough to appreciate his words for what they were. A test. He gave her an inquisitive look when she didn’t take the bait, schooling her features. “You don’t seem shocked by anything you’re seeing, Bree. Have you—”

“No. I haven’t.” She started to say more, but another man approached them.

“Carter. I wonder if I might have a word with you in private.”

Carter didn’t seem alarmed. Instead, he said, “We were on our way to find you, David.”

David. The business partner.

He and Carter must’ve met in the last decade because Bree didn’t know the man.

“David, this is Bree Andrews. Bree, this is David Connelly.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bree said, extending her hand. Rather than shake it, David lifted it, kissing her knuckles, then giving her a wink when Carter reached over to reclaim her hand from his charming friend.

“Like that, is it?” David said with a grin.

“Yes,” Carter replied, not smiling. “It is.”

David looked at her curiously. “Wait. Did you say Bree?”

Bree’s eyes widened with surprise. He knew her name? Then he proved he knew even more.

“Bree, the fashion designer? The one Reed refers to as the one who got away?”

Bree laughed, and Carter’s expression softened as he looked at her. “She came back.”

The smile David gave her was a mix of curiosity and genuine friendliness. Bree instantly liked him.

“Come on, Bree. I’ll let Carter give you the grand tour later. For now…we need to talk. In private.”

David led the way as Bree walked next to Carter. “You mentioned me?”

Carter shrugged. “Had a bad night a couple of years ago. Got drunk with Reed and David and said a hell of a lot more than I normally would have. I blame the bourbon.”

They climbed a flight of stairs by a back wall and then entered an office. Unlike the elegance of the main room, this space was all business. Two desks set up on opposite sides of the room indicated that he and David shared the office and a large window stood in place of one wall that overlooked the action below.

“One-way mirror,” David said when he noticed where she was looking. Then he turned to Carter. “Mind telling me why we’re on full lockdown?”

Carter hesitated, and she sensed he was trying to come up with a way to explain to his friend without revealing her personal matters.

Bree appreciated his kindness, but she wasn’t about to put Carter, David, or anyone else in this club at risk, armed with only a vague idea of the danger.

So she answered the question. “My stepfather murdered my mother and sister and was sentenced to life in prison. He escaped today and there’s a chance he may come here, looking for me. Revenge for my testimony.”

David tilted his head. “I see.” He bent over the keyboard of his laptop and typed something. Once he found what he was looking for, he turned the screen toward her. “Two men escaped. Which one is your stepdad?” David asked.

Bree swallowed heavily as she looked at the arrest photo of Ronnie. She’d cut all traces of him out of her life a decade ago. Coming face to face with the evil man again was difficult, and while she was sorry she had put Carter in the line of danger, she was grateful she was with him. What would have been a terrifying night alone was much less so with Carter. He made her feel safe, protected. “The one on the right.”

David nodded, then turned the laptop back toward him as he clicked several keys. “I’ll send a copy of that photo to our guards downstairs.”

“I’m very sorry to put you and everyone here at such risk,” Bree said, overwhelmed with the same rush of guilt. This was her nightmare. She was wrong to include others.

David’s incredulous glance mirrored Carter’s earlier, and she understood why the men were such good friends. They were cut from the same cloth. “220 is exactly where you should be tonight. This place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox right now. We’ll keep you safe until your stepfather is back behind bars.”

“How can I ever thank you enough for—”

“Something tells me you’re going to keep Carter on his toes for the rest of his life.” David’s smile was pure mischief. “That show will be payment enough.”

“Very funny,” Carter said. “Bree and I will be in my private room. If anything happens—”

“I’ll call you.”

Carter nodded his thanks, and the two of them descended the stairs back to the main floor.

“Your own room?”

“One of the perks of ownership.” Carter’s hand was resting on the small of her back, but he slid it lower to cup her ass as he said, “Of course, we could stay out here and play.”

She looked around, then pointed. “I wouldn’t mind strapping you to that St. Andrew’s Cross and having my wicked way with you.”

His gaze narrowed, his tone sardonic when he responded, “My room it is. While we’re there, we’re going to discuss your knowledge of BDSM and set up some play parameters.”

She reached lower, cupping his cock, which was rock hard, despite her bondage taunt. “As long as those parameters include me topping, we should be just fine.”

Carter gripped her wrist, but rather than pull her hand away from his dick, he pressed it against him more firmly. “Touch it like you mean it,” he taunted.

She closed her fingers around him as much as she could with his slacks in the way, but Carter didn’t shrink away from her rough touch. Instead, he added to the play, reaching out and pinching one of her nipples through the silk of her blouse and the lace of her bra. Even those two layers didn’t detract from the pain of it.

Bree wouldn’t have expected to find pleasure in such things, but there was no denying his spanking earlier and this rough play had her body thrumming with a need that should have been well sated by now.

She had lost count of how many orgasms she’d had tonight after the fifth. And despite—or maybe because of—the fear she felt over the danger she was in, she wanted him again.

No. It went beyond that. Her need felt primal. Animalistic.

Every time she was with Carter, she felt the desire to dig her claws in, to leave scars. That couldn’t be healthy, but the sexy man didn’t appear to mind her marks.

She tightened her grip on his cock, prompting him to pinch her nipple even harder.

She gasped, but the sound soon morphed to a moan.

Carter responded to it by using his free hand to grasp the back of her neck and pulling her face toward his. The kiss he gave her was all-consuming, brutal.

Bree released her grip on his cock, moving her hands around his waist, pulling him to her as she added another layer of heat to the embrace. She pressed his cock against her by cupping his ass, swaying her hips side to side.

Carter released her and took a small step away. Bree tried to follow him, but he held her back.

“We need to get to my room. Now.”

She didn’t have a chance to reply as he grasped her hand and pulled her down a dimly lit corridor. The door to his room—like the front entrance of the club—opened by thumbprint.

As Bree walked in, it became instantly apparent that Carter hadn’t exaggerated his desire for complete control over his lovers. There were straps attached to the four corner posts of a large bed, a spanking bench sat in one corner and a chain dangled in the center of the room.

Along one wall hung a shelf of interesting instruments—crops, spreader bars, rope, and more. An open chest at the foot of the bed held more intimate toys—dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, and nipple clamps.

“It’s a veritable Kinky-R-Us store in here,” she joked.

Carter chuckled. “See anything you like?”

She glanced at the chains hanging from the ceiling, then she went over to the shelf, picking up a narrow paddle. She didn’t miss the look of hunger in his eyes when she tapped the palm of her hand with it lightly. “You would look very sexy, naked and chained there as I—”

“Bree,” Carter interrupted.

“I haven’t changed that much either, Carter.”

He tilted his head as he appeared to consider whether or not she was telling the truth. “I just don’t think you realize yet that you have.”

“Meaning?”

“Take off your blouse.”

She put the paddle down and her fingers were at the top button of her blouse before she could consider her actions. Then she just rolled with it because complying got her where she wanted to be faster. With him. Buried deep between her thighs.

Carter pointed to the spanking bench. “Kneel there.”

Her eyes narrowed and she hesitated. Carter didn’t move either. He simply gave her a look that told her he would wait all night if he had to. Something that would ensure both of them suffered.

She knelt on the leather pad but didn’t bend her upper body over the flat surface. There were straps attached to the legs.

Bree recalled the reason they were here. Her stepfather was free. He was looking for her.

Carter stepped next to her, stroking her hair. The touch comforted her. Calmed her.

“I’m not tying you down. Neither one of us is wearing any of these straps or chains until Ronnie is behind bars.”

Somehow he’d sensed her reticence and understood the reason for it—even when she hadn’t. He wouldn’t put her at risk, render her helpless until it was safe to do so.

But if it weren’t for Ronnie, Bree had the uneasy—and shocking—realization that she would have bent over the table willingly for Carter.

Carter stepped behind her, her back to him. He continued to play with her hair, caressing it and the sides of her head, toying with her ears. It was sexy and sensuous. She’d never been so turned on by mere touches.

“Lean forward,” he murmured after several minutes of his slow, relaxing head massage.

She leaned over the table, and Carter wasted no time lifting the back of her skirt, baring her ass. Bree hadn’t bothered to find her thong back in Carter’s office. She’d been too intent on getting dressed and getting the hell out of there.

She shivered when he ran his hand over her ass cheeks. Again, his touch was soft, gentle. After so much roughness from him tonight, she was struggling to keep up with this new style.

Bree had kept her hands bent beneath her on the bench, ready to use them to push her up and away if necessary.

“Put your hands down and grip the front legs of the bench.”

“But you said—”

“I’m not binding them there. You’re going to be a good girl and keep them there on your own.”

She blew out a hard breath. “You might want to lighten up on that good girl crap because—”

His hand came down on her ass hard and she jerked, then tried to rise.

Carter bent over her, keeping her pressed against the leather, as he whispered, “Put your hands down.”

His tone told her resistance would be pointless. And stupid. Carter wasn’t a stranger. He was her friend, her lover, and the only man in her life she’d ever trusted. He’d never hurt her. God, more than that, he’d always love her.

Her hands slid off the bench, and she gripped the legs as he’d instructed.

She was rewarded with a kiss on the back of her head.

“You slay me, Bree.”

“I love you.”

Her words were met with a softly muttered “shit” that she didn’t understand until he wrapped his hand around her upper arm and pulled her up from the table in one smooth, firm move.

Carter kissed her as if his life depended on it, and Bree tasted every sweet emotion she’d ever longed for. Love, acceptance, adoration, respect.

He released her, cupping her face in his. “I want to play with you, Bree, want to explore every single thing in here with you—from the top and the bottom, if that’s the only way—but tonight…” He swallowed heavily. “Tonight I want to make love to you.”

She dashed away a tear with the back of her hand. They’d had sex six ways to Sunday tonight, each experience mind-blowing and hot. But none of them were as appealing as what he was offering her at that moment.

“I want—”

Carter’s phone rang, and Bree jumped at the sudden, unexpected sound.

Carter’s face turned to stone as he pulled the cell from his pocket. “What’s happening?”

He listened to whomever was on the line, his gaze drifting toward the door of the room.

“How is he?”

Bree’s heart thudded painfully. Was someone hurt? Because of her? Suffused with guilt, she put her blouse back on, trying to button it. The simple act was made impossible by her trembling hands. Carter brushed them away, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he quickly and efficiently buttoned her blouse.

Once she was dressed again, he tucked her closely as he wrapped up his call.

“He’s here?”

Carter nodded. “He must have seen us leaving the bar and followed. He struck fast. Before we could get all our security measures in place.”

“What do you mean?”

“He got the jump on one of my security guards at the back when he came into work. Holding a gun to my man’s head, he was able to muscle his way in.”

“Did he…” Bree couldn’t make herself ask the question. If this guard died because she’d come here, she would never forgive herself.

Carter shook his head. “No. He forced him and the guard who’d already been stationed at the back door into the basement. Made one of them tie up the other, then he knocked the second out with a hard blow to the head. He took their walkie-talkies and weapons and locked them in the basement.”

“So he’s here? In the building?”

Bree had been fighting to keep her panic at bay. Freaking out wouldn’t do any good. And while her head accepted that fact, the rest of her was revolting. She felt light-headed, nauseous, terrified.

Carter led her to the bed, helped her to sit down, then pushed her head down toward her knees. “Take it easy, Bree. David has most of the guests out and the guards are searching the building. The police chief has been alerted. Cops are on the way. We just need to lie low in here until they can grab him.”

“You’ll stay in here with me?” Bree knew Carter. He was a man of action. Hiding behind a locked door was not in his genetic makeup.

“Jesus. I’m not about to leave you in here unprotected.” As he spoke, he picked up the gun he’d placed on the nightstand and switched off the safety.

Bree looked toward the door to the room. “Is that the only way in here?”

Carter glanced around as if looking for something. “No. But it’s the easiest way.”

“How else?”

Carter pointed to a long, heavy curtain. “Window behind there.” She expected him to pull it open, but instead, he turned the spanking bench over on its side. “Crouch behind there, Bree.”

As she moved, she asked, “Is the window locked?”

“No,” a deep voice said, stepping from behind the curtain. “It’s not.”

Bree froze in terror as events unfolded in slow motion.

Carter lifted his gun as he stepped in front of her, but Ronnie already had his pointed in Carter’s direction. Before either man could pull the trigger, there was a loud crash.

From the corner of her eye, Bree saw two policemen storm into the room, guns drawn. She tried to push Carter out of the line of fire as gunshots erupted. The sound was deafening as she knocked Carter forward.

Something flew by her as the two of them fell to the floor, but just before impact, Carter twisted, cushioning her landing for one brief second before turning to cover her with his body.

Another body hit the floor near them.

Her stepfather lay in a pool of blood.

She didn’t spare him a second glance as all her attention, her focus returned to Carter.

Bree patted Carter’s arms, his chest, her gaze flying over him rapidly as she searched for blood. “Are you okay? Did he—”

“What the fuck was that, Bree?”

She didn’t stop touching him, looking. She had to be certain, had to make sure…

Carter gripped her wrists in his as he pressed them to the floor. He was scowling and his tone drove home his outright fury. “You put yourself between me and your stepfather. You could have been shot.”

“Are you hurt?” She could’ve sworn one of the bullets whizzed right by them.

“No. Jesus, Bree. I should beat your ass black and blue for what you just did.”

“Later,” she teased, adrenaline giving way to uncontrollable giddiness as she glanced over at the cops. “When we’re alone.”