Monday morning dawned gray and dreary, like her mood. A wreck all weekend, not eating, barely sleeping, and consumed with worrying over facing Flynn when she returned to work, Cassie practiced what she would say.

“I’m sorry for running out without an explanation, but I was taken by surprise when unmasked. I should have told you who I was, but I didn’t want anyone at work to learn of my visit. I’d heard about the club and was curious but had decided to stay and play. Regardless, I hope we can be professionals and put this incident behind us and go on as we were before.”

In her mind, he was a gentleman and agreed to her request. She refused to think about what she’d do if he didn’t, so she never came up with a Plan B.

On pins and needles, Cassie drove to work and for the first time welcomed a slow down on I-5 and almost cheered over the stalled car on the Coronado Bridge which reduced commuter traffic to one lane. Both were responsible for her arrival only minutes before her new training class was scheduled to start at nine o’clock. Parking in her usual spot, she scanned the lot for a familiar black F-150. When she didn’t see it, assuming he’d parked elsewhere and taken one of the five Jeeps lined up in the reserved spaces, she grabbed her stuff and hurried inside.

She had steeled herself for this first face-to-face with Flynn and felt oddly disappointed to find Lieutenant Eckersley, one of the other instructors there to monitor the men instead. His absence only delayed the inevitable and strained her already harried nerves. With a million questions swirling in her brain about the last-minute change, she managed not to ask anyone about it and got right to work.

The day went smoothly, this group of trainees catching on quickly. They broke for lunch at noon and finished at 4:30. She welcomed the routine but stayed on edge watching the door anxiously. With each passing hour when Flynn didn’t make an appearance, the knot in the pit of her stomach twisted tighter.

Apparently, she’d worried for nothing. When she shut down the systems at the end of the long day, she hadn’t received a single call or a text. Was he too angry, or did he simply not care enough to bother? Blowing out a shaky breath, she grabbed her purse and turned off the lights. As she left the building, she dug around for her phone. It took a few moments of futile searching in the extra bag she’d switched to that morning before she remembered. It was two hours north at the club with her wallet.

When she’d gotten home late on Saturday—or rather early on Sunday—her humiliation wasn’t over. Without keys, she’d had to wake the resident manager to let her in. She’d endured speculative sidelong looks, most aimed at her minuscule skirt and stand up stockings. Convinced he now thought she was a hooker, she managed to hold it together while he fumbled with the lock. The heat of her embarrassment had scalded her face by the time the door swung inward. After a muttered thank you, she slammed it and set the deadbolt, then rested her hot cheek against the wood while counting the number of months remaining on her lease before she could move.

But she had bigger problems to tackle. First, getting word to Jules and Colt, she arrived home safely. With no landline, her only option was email, so she logged onto her laptop and dashed off a quick message.

Sorry I ran out, but I freaked. By now you’re aware why I couldn’t call. I’m not ready for company yet. I’ll let you know when I am.

Jules answered right away. Relieved to hear you’re safe, honey. FYI, Colt is pissed.

As she was thinking of a response, another email came in. This is Colt. I’m not pissed. What I am is fucking angry. He didn’t have to tell her; his emotion jumped out at her through the screen. We will talk about this, Cassie.

She’d dashed off a reply. I know, and I’m sorry. Love you both.

While she was still staring sadly at the screen, Jules sent a quick message that made her smile through her tears. We love you too—always. Everything is going to be all right. Talk tomorrow.

The morning came too soon after a restless, sleepless, exhausting night, as did the knock on her front door. Without a phone to contact her, they came unannounced, although she expected their visit. But she wasn’t ready to face them. She didn’t budge from her bed, except to cover her head with her pillow and try to block out the knocking that turned to a loud banging. She cringed upon hearing Colt’s angry curses before they finally gave up.

Feeling like the worst friend ever, she’d called him from work first thing that morning. He, of course, was busy training—something else she expected and counted on. So, like a coward, she left a message on his voice mail, begging his forgiveness for acting like a drama queen and a brat.

Her plan for the evening was to drive to their house and grovel in person. Facing Colt’s wrath and Jules’ disappointment wouldn’t be easy, but it had to be done to save their friendship. The inevitable scene was running through her head as she somehow made her way through the parking lot without falling into a hole or tripping on a curb, the whole time rummaging in her purse for her spare set of car keys. They had sunk to the bottom without the extra-large key chain she’d bought to keep this from happening. When she finally dug them out, she looked up.

Her steps came to an abrupt halt when she saw Flynn leaning against her driver’s side door. As always, her breath caught at the sight of him. Rather than his full-service uniform, he wore camo pants and a white t-shirt. He had his arms crossed over his chest and the long fingers of one hand resting on a bulging bicep. There was something about Flynn’s hands, probably the size, big and strong, with short nails and those visible ropy veins on the backs that prompted images of them moving on her body. As she stared at them, his fingers tapped impatiently, only once, but it was enough to shift her focus to his face.

Like Colt, he was pissed—correction, fucking angry—if his clenched jaw and the twitching muscle in his cheek were an accurate rage barometer.

Cassie stood unmoving, her feet frozen, even when he raised his hand and crooked a finger at her. She swallowed, hard.

“Don’t make me come and get you,” he warned in a steely voice.

Her heart leaped into her throat, nearly choking her. She wanted to run away and hide, except she wasn’t twelve. Breathing deep, she took a tentative step forward. As she did, he straightened, towering over her: intimidating, dominant, and so damn sexy. Flynn was everything she ever wanted but couldn’t have. She stopped again.

“Come here, Cassie. I won’t bite.” When she started moving again, he added, “A trip over my knee is a safe bet, however.”

Her eyes shot to his, but his expression was suddenly unreadable, with a lethal calmness in his eyes. She’d almost prefer his anger. As she came to a stop in front of him, she launched into her practiced speech. “I’m sorry for running out without an explanation. I was taken by surprise when unmasked.” Clasping her hands to stop them from shaking, she forced herself through the rest. Or what she could remember of it because no matter the countless flawless recitations, facing him now, it had somehow slipped away. “I hope we can be professionals and put this behind us and go on as we were before.”

He stared at her silently for a moment. “Rehearsed that all weekend, I bet.”

Her jaw dropped. In reaction, Flynn’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. With humor, she hoped but couldn’t be sure. “How did you know?”

“I’ve been a dominant for a long time and have learned a few things about submissives.” His fingers curled firmly around her upper arm as he walked her forward, away from her car.

“Where are we going?”

Her question went unanswered, and he didn’t say another word until he stopped by his truck and opened the passenger’s door. “Get in.”

She tipped up her chin, biting her lip. Damn sunglasses, she couldn’t see his eyes to guess so had to ask him, “What are you thinking?”

“That we need to go someplace quiet and talk. When we’re done, you’ll have a decision to make. Either way, you are going home with a red, hot backside.”

Ignoring the second half of his statement, since she deserved both his anger and a spanking after the way she’d acted, she concentrated on the first part. “What kind of decision?”

“I’ll explain when we get there. Get in the truck.”

“But—”

“Now, Cassie.”

Her lips suddenly dry, her tongue came out to wet them, drawing his gaze. The steel blue in his eyes suddenly disappeared and was replaced with molten silver. His fingers curled around her waist, and he lifted her, settling her behind firmly on the seat. He leaned in and buckled her seat belt. As he moved back, his hand came to her cheek, turning her face up to his.

“I’m on a thin thread here, Cassandra. Don’t push me.”

She blinked, uncertain what she had done to make things worse and thought it wise to nod in understanding even if she didn’t.

He held her gaze for a moment, then pulled away, his fingers gliding lightly along her jaw, sending a shiver down her spine. His touch set up a tingle between her legs, just like Saturday night. As he shut the door and walked around to his side, she squirmed and shifted, trying to decrease the distracting sensation.

She stilled when he opened his door and climbed in.

The truck engine roared to life, the rumbling causing the seat beneath her to vibrate for a moment. It stopped when he pulled forward and moved out of the lot, heading north. But the damage was done, the ache and wetness between her thighs now worse. Trying to ignore her body’s response to the man seated beside her, she clasped her hands tightly in her lap and turned her head to stare out the window.

They drove in silence for a few miles before he took the exit to The Village in Coronado. He turned east toward the bay and in a few minutes, they drove past the coffee shop.

“Your girlfriend is very pretty.” After she blurted out the words, she wanted to reel them back in.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Her head swung his way.

“My sister, Sarah, was in town last week for a business conference. We met for dinner, then had coffee at Bay Front. The view there is spectacular which is why it’s one of her favorite spots. She stayed at my place for the night and flew out the next morning, back to New York.”

Stifling a groan, she dropped her head against the high seat back, rolling it toward the window. “She must think I’m terribly rude.”

“Mm…” was his noncommittal response.

She closed her eyes, wishing for the power of teleportation. When the vehicle slowed and made a sharp turn, Cassie cracked open one eye and saw he’d pulled into the driveway of a Mediterranean style house. While Flynn got out and came around to her side, she took in the neatly landscaped yard with its six-foot privacy fence all around. Everywhere she looked she saw a profusion of color in the flowering trees and shrubs. It was lovely.

“Who lives here?” she asked when he opened her door.

“I do. Come on out.” He extended his hand to her, curling his fingers in a hurry up gesture when she didn’t take it.

She frowned at his bossiness. Always present, it had simmered beneath the surface with her in the past. Today, it had increased to a full rolling boil. Considering her current situation, she didn’t protest, thinking it best to do as she was told and get this talk over. Placing her hand in his, she used it to steady herself as she slid to the ground from the high seat.

Flynn didn’t step back. Instead, he crowded her as he reached in and flipped the lock, before taking her arm and closing the door. He then led her up a stone walkway to the front door.

The property here didn’t come cheap—she’d checked when she was apartment hunting. She was surprised that he could swing it, even on a commander’s pay. It had to have cost a mint.

As she took in the manicured lawn, the pristine shrub beds without the first sign of weeds, and the flowering pots on the small porch, the beginnings of a smile curved her lips. “This isn’t at all what I imagined.”

“What did you expect?” he asked, sounding distant as he unlocked his door.

After the way he’d been acting, it was on the tip of her tongue to say, “a cave”. She wisely kept her mouth shut, not foolish enough to test him. Besides, with his fingers still curled possessively around her arm, he was making certain she couldn’t run from him again.

She gritted her teeth, irked by his aloof manner. It wasn’t that she blamed him, but where would she go? Her car was back at the base, her apartment across the bridge on the mainland, and with her wallet hours away in LA, she had no phone or money to call a cab.

He moved his hand to the small of her back and guided her in.

A wet nose and wagging tail greeted her. “Roscoe!” she exclaimed, going into a squat for some excited doggie kisses. His welcome was so much better than his master’s.

“I need to let him out, then we’ll talk,” Flynn said, as he closed and locked the door behind him. “Come on, buddy,” he murmured, crossing the room to a set of French sliders on the far wall. When he opened them and waited for his dog to trot through, Cassie rose and glanced around his home. They were in a great room with gleaming hardwood floors and high ceilings. To the left was a wooden staircase with the same glossy wood on the treads and the rail spindles.

It was immaculate, everything orderly and in its place. The furniture was dark wood and leather, utterly masculine—the only thing that didn’t surprise her about his home. That and the huge wall mounted flat screen TV, of course.

“My grandparents bought the house new in 1929. They left it to me when they passed a few years back.” Before she could comment, he added, “We’ll talk in the den.”

He moved through an archway, and she followed, pausing to peek into the neat, updated kitchen. Through a door on the far wall, she could see the dining area.

“Cassie.”

She glanced up to find him waiting at the end of the short hallway, his hands on his hips, clearly impatient. Hurrying to catch up, she entered ahead of him. A chill ran up her spine when he shut the door with an ominous thud and closed them in together.