She watches me like she’s looking for clues. “Is something bothering you? You know, other than being cooped up in your new place?”

I shake my head. I don’t know how much to tell her about Reece and me, though she did seem pretty intuitive the last time. Maybe it’s the generous pour of tequila in my drink, but I’m looking across the table at Brielle, with her bright, inquisitive eyes and easygoing dressed-down style that includes a messy ponytail, and decide why the hell not open up to her?

“Reece and I had a session a couple of days ago.”

Her brows rise up on her forehead. “A session?”

“Don’t act so innocent. I know my brother’s a member at Crave, so surely that must mean you’ve been well acquainted with the kink that goes on there.”

She blushes and looks off in the distance. “I always wondered what Reece was into . . .”

“He was intense, unyielding, and when it was over, boy was it over. He just left me in his private playroom and told me to get cleaned up.”

Brielle frowns. “What about aftercare?”

“After what?”

She shakes her head. “Maybe that’s just a Hale thing. Never mind. Continue.”

“I just wanted to have a little fun, you know, blow off some steam, but now I’m questioning if I want to do that again. Sure, it was exciting. My heart was pounding a million miles an hour not knowing what was going to happen in that room, under his skillful hands, I just didn’t expect to feel so . . . unsatisfied at the end.”

Brielle chews on the end of her straw, looking thoughtful. “That’s strange that he was so abrupt about it. You know, Hale says that Reece has never settled down, has never taken on a submissive, almost like he’d had his heart broken and swore off anything serious. Which doesn’t make sense to Hale, because he says Reece never had anything serious enough to end badly. Although he did take his parents’ divorce pretty rough.”

Well, isn’t she just a font of information. It’s interesting about Reece’s supposed lockdown of his heart. I get the sense he’s closed off too. But why? It couldn’t have been my relationship with him. He’s the one who ended things. He could have had me any way he wanted me—geez, I delivered myself on a silver platter, but no dice. Besides, that was a lifetime ago. I’m sure he moved on. Many times.

“I’m not sure,” I say, taking another long sip of my drink while I gesture to the bartender for another. Fuck it; I’ll be taking a cab home anyway.

Brielle clears her throat, her expression thoughtful. “Reece turned to BDSM several years ago, and then opened his club a few years later. I don’t know much of his past beyond what Hale’s mentioned. Sorry I don’t have any juicy gossip. I suck at girl talk.”

I smile at her. “Well, I know something juicy.”

“What’s that?”

The bartender sets down two fresh peach margaritas, and I trade my empty glass for a full one. “He’s hung like a damn horse.”

Brielle chokes on her drink and coughs. “Seriously?”

I nod, a grin twitching on my mouth. “Seriously. That is one gargantuan slab of male virility. It’s like a huge fucking cock.”

“Oh my God.” Brielle is chuckling behind her hand. “He’s what . . . . six foot six?”

“Six four,” I correct. But yeah, he’s a giant. Built, muscular, handsome. And sweet, yet with a dark and troubled side I want to figure out. “And trust me, his cock is proportionate. It’s intimating. I mean, what do I do with that?” Remembering back to the way I made him come so quickly with my mouth, a twinge of pride ripples through me.

“Good luck with that,” she says, still flushed and grinning at me.

• • •

With my shoulders back and my breasts thrust forward, I walk like I’m strutting down the runway at a major fashion show. Confidence exudes from every part of me, and I feel powerful and alive. Now that I know what to expect, I enter the club with more self-assuredness than before. My heels click across the floor as I head straight for the bar.

Spotting Reece at the bar with a Scotch in his hand, I can’t help but remember the lesson he gave me on how to enjoy his favorite drink. He looks handsome but troubled with his broad shoulders pulled forward as he leans over the bar.

I stop beside him and lift myself onto the bar stool.

“What are you craving, sweetheart?” the bartender asks, stopping in front of me.

“One of those, please,” I say, glancing at Reece’s glass of Scotch.

Reece nods in approval as the bartender strolls away and grabs a bottle of Macallan, an expensive aged Scotch.

“Clever line. Is that your doing?” I ask, nodding after the bartender.

“The line? No, I paid a publicity company twenty thousand dollars to come up with that.”

When it’s placed before me, I take a small sip of the drink, letting the burn fade on my tongue before I swallow just like Reece showed me. We sip our drinks quietly, a strange energy burning between us. It’s sexually charged, but there’s something else too—something I don’t quite understand yet, but want to.

“What did you do today?” he asks.

“Nothing much. Ran errands, then I got a manicure.” I wasn’t thrilled about the expense since I’m not working yet, but unpacking chipped my nails all to hell.

He lifts my hand to inspect my nails. “Still black,” he says grimly, as if the dark color is a reflection on my mood.

“Yes,” I answer, though he can plainly see the color hasn’t changed.

The woman I saw in Reece’s office struts past, her lingerie-clad hips swinging. She treats him to a coy smile, and he nods at her. A flash of jealousy flares inside me. I know she must be an employee of the club, but still, it makes me wonder if he has a past with her.

“I’m not here for your little games,” I say, snatching his attention away from her like a little kid grabbing for her favorite toy.

“I thought that’s exactly why you were here,” he says, enjoying another sip of his drink.

Leveling him with an icy stare, I throw the rest of my drink back. “I’m here because I want a good time. And I think you want that too, need it.”

He looks down at the bar. “What are you saying, Macey?”

“No holds barred. If we’re doing this—let’s do it. No cutting out early. No going easy on me. I want the full Reece Jackson experience.” A smile lifts my mouth.

“You sure that’s what you want?”

“Positive,” I say, ignoring the wave of nerves fluttering in my belly.

“Then let’s go.”

Standing, he offers me his hand, and I take it, rising gracefully from the bar stool. Instead of heading for the elevator like before, he leads me to a stairwell that’s deserted and quiet. Nothing but the sound of our footsteps cuts through the heavy silence.

When we reach his private room, we stop in front of the door and I turn to him. “Do you ever do this in your apartment?”

“No.” Reece looks down at me. His expression is impassive, but his tone is harsh. “Do you remember the code?”

I nod, unsure how to feel about the knowledge that he doesn’t bring women to his place. That’s just weird.

“Your birthday.” When I punch in the code on the keypad, the door clicks open to reveal the same quiet, dark, and sensual room I remember, and my heart rate kicks up immediately.

“Undress and wait for me on the bed,” Reece says, his tone sure and steady.

This is Reece the Dominant, and I fucking love it. My belly is tingling with nerves, and I feel alive and eager.

“Yes, sir,” I say, then bow my head and cross the room toward the bed.

After stripping off my jeans, socks, and shirt, I fold everything into a pile and place it on the dresser, leaving my bra and panties in place, remembering that he seemed to enjoy removing those himself last time. The soft sound of classical music comes from overhead, and I turn to see Reece adjusting the settings on a built-in stereo panel on the wall.

I sit on the end of the bed and wait for him. Watching him cross the room toward me is a special form of torture. He’s so handsome and strong, but with an underlying vulnerability that tugs at my heart. I can’t help but recall my conversation with Brielle. There’s a sadness to him I want to chase away.