“For you?” He raised a brow, trailing one hand down her back. “Anything.”

Their lips melted and their hearts merged. She’d never imagined that kissing anyone would feel like this, as though their two souls were touching. Yet, from the moment she’d met Wes Thorne, they’d been connected by something deeper, purer than she could have imagined and a single kiss was but a beautiful drop in a vast sea. This kiss was its own work of art.

A true masterpiece.

Epilogue

Royce Devereaux leaned back against the bar, grinning lazily, as Katrina Evans blew him a kiss good-bye. She sauntered away in those killer heels and black lace lingerie. He was still fully clothed in his jeans and a black t-shirt. They’d only done a minor scene tonight, a light spanking and a little more. He’d been too distracted to get into it tonight, not when they were alone. Half the rush was taking a woman to unbelievable heights of pleasure, knowing others could see her come apart screaming his name.

That hadn’t happened tonight. It had been a nice evening. Nice. He grimaced. His nights used to be explosive, mind-blowing, but never nice. He was born to be bad. Born to be wicked, and he hadn’t yet found a woman who could keep up with him.

He studied the other doms in the Gilded Cuff. Many of them were preoccupied with their own subs, unaware of his scrutiny. They were immersed in their own love affairs, bodies entwined. Royce felt a momentary flare of nostalgia he couldn’t quite place, causing him to give in to an uncharacteristic sigh. It used to be fun. He, Emery, and Wes breaking in new submissives with games and using wicked sex toys. Their world had seemed limitless. Until now.

Now it’s just me. The sharp pang of anger and jealousy shot through him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

His phone vibrated in his jeans pocket and when he checked the screen, he saw a text from Wes.

“She said yes.”

That was it. Royce growled softly, his fist clenching around the phone before he shoved it back into his pocket. Wes had flown out to Colorado that day to propose to Callie Taylor.

Royce spun to face the bar and reached over the edge to grab a nearby bottle of bourbon and a shot glass. Tonight was not his night. He was totally alone since Kat’s departure, and now he was completely fucked and not in the way he wanted, because the last of his best friends had just gotten engaged.

To Wes and Callie, he thought, as he downed the first of what promised to be a series of shots. The liquid burned his throat and he savored it, tilting his head back to the ceiling and letting it wash through him.

“Royce?” Aria Lexington, the Gilded Cuff’s top domme and gatekeeper of membership check-ins, walked up to him. Wearing her usual dark suit and black glasses with her hair in a sleek yet sexy chignon, she was a man’s perfect librarian fantasy. Not his though…He liked a submissive woman in bed, one he could spank, not one who’d rather spank him.

“What do you want?” he replied as he turned to face her, filling his glass of bourbon as he met her gaze.

“There’s a young woman in the lobby. She says she has to talk to you. Her name is Mackenzie Martin.”

Royce froze, the bourbon spilling over the edges of his glass and onto his fingers before he recovered and hastily set the bottle on the bar. It thunked hard against the wood surface and drew the attention of the bartender, who quirked a brow in concern.

“I was going to turn her away, per our privacy policy, but she seemed earnest and she’s not dressed for the club, if you get my meaning. She actually seems a bit frightened, and well…it looks like she’s been roughed up by someone.”

Kenzie was here? For a moment Royce’s brain short-circuited. His teacher’s assistant was standing in the lobby of his club? The club she wasn’t supposed to know about. And she was roughed up. Someone had hurt her…

“Let her in,” he told Aria. “She’s one of my graduate students. My TA.”

Aria straightened her glasses and blinked. “Are you sure? We had a ban of all students from the university at your request.”

“Aria,” Royce growled low. Even though the woman was a domme, she responded to his alpha dominance and lowered her head a few inches.

“Very well. You should come with me. She seems a bit skittish and insisted she speak to no one but you.”

Every muscle in Royce’s body tensed. What had happened to his TA? They rarely shared a civil word to one another and for her to seek him out was…abnormal. Adding to that what Aria had said about her being skittish, that wasn’t good.

Aria led Royce through the main club floor. When she opened the door to the lobby, one of the club monitors, Bruce, stood just outside watching something in the corner of the room far away from him.

“Where is she?” Royce asked him, glancing about the partially dim lobby.

Bruce gave a little nod indicating a bench on the far wall by the door. There, dripping wet, her eyes wide, hands clenched into fists, was Kenzie Martin. Royce took in her posture, the way her arms curled around her chest, her cable-knit sweater hanging limp about her body. She looked like a half-drowned kitten. Her jeans were dark with water and soaked with mud on one side as though she’d fallen. A small tear of her jeans on one knee caught his eye because of the bright crimson slash of blood. A bruise marred her cheek on the left side. Her head was bowed as though she was tired and attempting to hide or make herself appear smaller. They were the actions of a creature who’d been recently attacked.

His blood boiled and he clenched his fists. She’d been hurt and he was going to kill whoever had touched her.

“Dr. Devereaux?” She sat up when she saw him, her chocolate-brown eyes darting from him to Aria and then to Bruce.

“Kenzie, what’s happened?” He left Aria and Bruce as he strode over to her and knelt down on one knee so he was level with her. He cupped her cheeks and turned her face, inspecting the damage. Her long lashes fluttered and a single tear trickled down her bruised cheek. It glistened beneath the muted lamplight from the wall sconces and he brushed it away with the pad of his thumb.

“Can I speak with you privately?” she whispered, her gaze flicking to Bruce and Aria, who were still in the lobby, watching them intently.

“Okay, sure. There’s a room in the club where we can have some privacy.” He offered her a hand.

Normally he avoided touching her because she was so tempting. There was too much fire in her, too much sass, and he wanted to dominate her right into his bed…spank the sass right out of her until she was begging for him to take her. But she was off-limits. He’d never slept with a student at his college and he never would. It was a line he wouldn’t cross. And Kenzie had made it clear what she thought of him romantically, which was nothing. Rather than blush at his mildly inappropriate remarks that sometimes slipped out while they worked late on grading assignments, she just fired right back at him with some remark that put him in his place. Namely as her professor and not as a potential lover. Now, when her frightened gaze and trembling lips set off every instinct in him to protect her, she was more off-limits than ever.

She slipped her hand into his without questioning him. He led her past Aria and Bruce and into the club. Most of the subs and doms were getting up to leave for the night, but a few couples still lingering in the club eyed them with interest. Kenzie shifted closer to him, an almost unconscious move as he took her back to one of the private rooms.

She followed him inside but skidded to a halt when she saw the massive bed in the center of the room. Her almond-shaped eyes widened.

“What—”

“Relax, Kenzie. It’s just a bed. Sit down and tell me what happened.” He guided her over and gently pushed on her shoulders until she sat. Then he walked over to a dresser and opened the top drawer. Every private room kept a first-aid kit handy just in case the play got a little rough. He flipped the case open and dug through its contents until he found some antiseptic pads and a couple of Band-Aids. Tearing the packet open, he walked back to her and lifted one of her legs onto the bed so it was easier to reach. Her knee was scraped, the cut was not deep, but still bloody.