Page 7 of Resist

The most beautifulwoman I’ve ever seen is staring at my outstretched hand like it might be contaminated with something. So much so, I almost check to make sure there’s no lube on it or something. Or glitter. There’s always stray glitter floating around this place.

She’s tall, with long, dark hair, bright red lips, and a latex catsuit hugging every damn luscious curve of her body.

The wrinkles across the bridge of her nose are adorable as she regards my gesture with guarded curiosity. “C—Cecelia. Cecelia Carter.” The blush creeping up the side of her neck and into her cheeks leaves a crimson hue. How much of the rest of her skin has turned that delicious shade of red?

I can’t help my wandering thoughts, she’s a gorgeous woman.

She takes my hand and shakes it. Her handshake is practiced, firm, and just the right length of time to grip another person’s body, before she plucks her soft and delicate palm from mine leaving me wishing I’d grabbed onto her for just a moment longer. I feel her absence, even though her presence was fleeting.

I catch Jagger’s eye over Cecelia’s shoulder and give him a nod. I already prepped him that he might need to step into my shoes for an hour while I get to know Cecelia. Plus, I covered for him last week when he decided on-the-fly to take Talia home to see her grandmother. He owes me one. And something about her is drawing me in, a magnetism... maybe it’s the unspoken challenge in her resting bitch face that’s making me want to talk to her.

Or maybe it’s that killer catsuit leaving little to the imagination. And don’t think I didn’t notice the crotch zipper.

Hot. As. Fuck.

I’m under no illusions that this woman is out of my league, and also off-limits with the red band on display around her wrist. Thor didn’t tell me much, he just said it’s to stave off anyone wanting to get in her pants. He said she’s in a rough space and could use a friend, that “She’s worth the effort to break through her prickly outer shell and get to know.”

So I’m going to give it a shot, not because I like a challenge, not because I need a distraction. But because I don’t feel like fucking around tonight. I can’t exactly wear a red band like she is. I have to be ‘on’ for the club, for my role as DM, for the newbies, even if all I want to do is hide.

Maybe she could help me hide, with her red band... maybe we could both be ‘red’ and inaccessible for the evening.

If friendship is what she’s putting down, I’ll pick it up with both hands.

If she says no, then at least I’ve tried.

When I walked in here tonight, my blood was hot with rage. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to cut through the red haze consuming my body, and yet, one cursory glance from this woman downgraded my bubbling wrath to a steady simmer.

The way she tips her head reminds me I’m still standing staring at her, lost in my own mind, so I flash an easy, warm smile. “Firsttime?”

Her brow barely moves but there’s a twitch that tells me she’s not entirely sure what I mean.

A rare wave of heat creeps up my neck making my skin hot under the starched black collar. “I mean at the club, not...” I wave. “Never mind.”

The corners of her lips threaten to tug into a smirk but that resting bitch face seems impenetrable, even for me. I’m told I can be quite charming.

Challenge accepted.

To our left, a man stands towering over a smaller woman. Her arms are crossed, protectively hugging herself, she’s looking at her feet, and while he’s not yelling or giving any obvious signs that he might be trouble, something in my bones tells me he may be.

“This isn’t my first Club Protocol rodeo. It’s just been a while.”

Makes sense. Thor didn’t tell me how he knew her, or anything about her, not even her name because he had to go and serve customers before we got that far. In retrospect, that seems odd, hopefully she’s not a serial killer or something. I can’t imagine Thor wanting to get rid of me for any reason, but he’d certainly not be above pranking me.

The way Cecelia holds herself—tall, relaxed, confident, looking people, including me, straight in the eyes—should have told me she wasn’t a sex club virgin. She’s comfortable here, not unsure or outwardly anxious.

When I left my house earlier this evening, I was determined not to play with anyone. I wasn’t going to let my anger leak out onto someone else. Keep it contained, calm down, stay alert and keep people safe.

But the closer I am to this woman and her jasmine scent, the more I want to throw caution to the wind. Even if she’s wearing a red arm band to tell me she’s not interested.

I won’t push my lust onto her, but if she were to offer, I’m merely a man. There’s no fucking way I’m saying no.

“I’m actually looking for my friend.”

My heart sinks as she surveys the crowd. Maybe Thor was fucking with me by telling me she is single. Of course, she could be talking about anactualfriend, it would make sense with the red band. Maybe Thor’s fucking with me. Shit.

“I need to tell her I’m leaving.”

I thought my heart had dropped, but it slinks lower at her announcement that she’s about to go.

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