Page 33 of Dare to Love Again

The footsteps halted, and she felt his presence behind her, standing near without touching, but giving off incredible heat. He shifted, moving closer, enough for his shirt to brush her back and for her to see his black wingtips bracketing either side of her bare feet. She longed for her three-inch black pumps, the only remotely sexy part of her work attire, but she’d had to check them at the door.

She desperately wanted to look up and peek in one of the wall-mounted mirrors around the room, but she kept her eyes lowered.

A finger ran up her arm, lightly trailing over the silk of her sleeve. “I remember black leather from the other night, and far less than you’re wearing now. I’m guessing this isn’t your usual club attire, is it, lass?”

She jerked in surprise, and her head almost came up to see if her ears deceived her. But it was unnecessary. Low and beautifully melodic, Master Finnegan’s lightly accented voice was unforgettable, as was the way he called her lass.

After his offer to help her find someone more suitable, never hinting at an interest of his own, it never occurred to her he would be her dom for the night. A wave of warmth washed over her, mostly from relief that none of the awful scenarios she’d dreamed had come true, but also because as a DM, she could trust him to follow the club rules.

Still, regretful of the impression her conservative suit must be giving him, she stammered out her excuse. “I was delayed, sir. Something came up at work at the last minute.” Trite and overly vague, it sounded made-up. “My boss,” she rushed to explain, “was in a panic about something he insisted couldn’t wait until Monday.” Esme realized she was nervously twisting her hands and forced herself to stop. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to change and make myself presentable.”

He didn’t answer, but moved again, this time around her, likely taking her in from every angle.

She’d assumed arriving late to a session with a new dom was far worse than being inappropriately dressed—maybe she’d guessed wrong. She should have taken down her hair, but without a brush, it would have been a mess. Her best attempt at alluring had been opening an extra button on her blouse.

“Hmm,” was his only response. When he paused in front of her, she could sense his slow perusal but didn’t look up, afraid to see his disapproval. What would happen if he ended the session? Today was day eighty-seven of her trial membership. Her time was almost up.

She opened her mouth, but wasn’t sure what to say. Offer more lame excuses or plead with him not to walk away. At a loss over what to do next, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth to keep it from quivering.

He surprised her by murmuring, “Easy, lass. I think we can work with this.”

His hand lightly grazed her hip as he came full circle and stood behind her once again.

“I like the skirt. It’s snug enough to hug your curves and though the length is professional, it shows enough of your long legs. The slit in the back hints at the treasures still hidden underneath. Sometimes, less can be more enticing than blatant, in your face, sexuality. This jacket needs to go, however.” He took care of the offending garment in a blink, by tugging it down her arms and tossing it aside.

Back in front of her, he put a hand beneath her chin and tipped her face up to his. Amusement glittered in his green eyes, and she blinked, still trying to process that it was Master Finn standing in front of her.

The beginnings of a smile tilted the corners of his mouth upward. “We meet again. It’s Esme, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Surprised?”

“More like stunned.”

His brows drew together in question. “Why? You don’t think we’ll work well together?”

“I got the impression you weren’t interested when you offered to find me another dom.”

“Lack of interest wasn’t the problem; my jam-packed schedule and having little time to devote to a new submissive was.”

“Has that changed, sir?”

“Let’s say I moved things around when Master Eric called and said he had a challenge for me. He made it sound like the idea suddenly came to him, but I know the man. He has a devious streak, though well meaning, and I believe he’s been plotting this for a while.”

“He has? But why?”

“Since he’s claimed and collared a sub of his own and found happiness, he wants the same for everyone else, and has turned into our resident matchmaker.”

She’d felt that way once. Nothing would do except for her single friends to find the same happiness she had with Andrew.

His thumb swept out and slid across her bottom lip. “A memory?”

Startled, she stared up at him for a moment. “How did you know?”

“You have an expressive face, lass. Your husband was a good man?”

“The best, sir.”

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