His sweet smile turned wonderfully wicked. “Then you will be the most loved woman in the world.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Once we’re alone, I’ll show you just how much I can give you.”
“Alone?”
He nodded his head at something behind her. When she turned, she found her father standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, but he seemed satisfied.
“That will do, boy. You have my blessing. Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you, Jim.”
“Why don’t you both come inside and warm up.” Jim held the door open.
Callie turned to Wes, hoping he wouldn’t mind being around her father. Emotions flashed across his face and he hugged Callie close.
“What are you thinking about?” she whispered.
He smiled down at her.
“I’m thinking I’m the luckiest man alive. I have a woman to love and a real family. I thought I had everything I wanted. And then I met you.” He nuzzled her cheek, then placed a tender kiss on her lips, and she felt his heart there, beating in time with her own.
“You’re burned into my soul, Callie.” He placed her hand to his chest above his heart.
She leaned into him, hugging him. “From the moment I met you, you’ve always been in mine. Even before I knew that I loved you, my heart loved you. Just promise me one thing, no more wagers. I don’t think I’d survive another bet.” This time she kissed him, pushing him against the wooden porch beam. He chuckled against her lips.
“No more bets,” he promised.
“Good. Now get over here and make me blush.” She tugged at the lapels of his coat.
“Easy, little sub, I owe you plenty of spankings.” He murmured seductively.
“Mmm, sounds tempting. Maybe later though. Now, I want you to kiss me, damn it.”
“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.