Page 50 of Breaking Free

“We can, but first, we need to finish your tour. There are theme rooms on the second floor that offer privacy. If we’re lucky, one will be open. Unless you’d prefer your sample happen here in the playroom.”

Her hair swished across his hand as she vehemently shook her head. “Private sounds good to me. Sir.”

She remembered.

He suppressed a smile. His perky little neighbor was utterly captivating, and, despite his serious reservations about her being here, he was enjoying himself for the first time in a long time.

Chapter 14

AS THEY CLIMBED THEnarrow stairs side by side, Piper asked herself for the millionth time what the heck she was doing. She could be on her way home to watch a sappy romance while binging on the tub of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream she had in her freezer. With the raspberry truffle long gone, she’d replenished her supply to act as an antidote to Tristan’s faucet-like hot-and-cold treatment. When he showed both to her tonight, passionately angry and protective, and, at the same time, aggressively trying to carve her out of his life, she’d had the chance to walk away. He’d even given her a final nudge. Red was such a small word, tripping lightly off the tongue. Yet, when the time came, it was as heavy as lead, silencing her completely.

He hadn’t had a change of heart. She understood that plainly. The sample he offered was to achieve his goal of scaring her off. She was a fool about many things regarding Tristan Rogers, but when she took his hand and entered the dungeon, she was clear-eyed about his motive. Asking about other clubs was a fleeting curiosity. No way would she have the nerve to go to one of the meat markets Samson and Josie described. And, without Tristan, she didn’t have the desire. Everything she’d seen thus far, from the scary wheel to the orgasm machines to the leather-clad women walking half-naked men around on leashes, had been titillating, but she could and would have walked awayif it wasn’t for the one man she wanted who was doing his damnedest not to want her.

Breathing in didn’t settle her nerves. It only made things worse because she could smell his spicy scent made more potent by his body heat, which radiated off him as they climbed. Every touch, whether the casual graze of his arm or his hand on her back, guiding her, sent delightful shivers down her spine. Piper stifled a sigh. She’d never been this attracted to anyone before, especially someone who was a walking red flag. Why, amid the hundreds of club members and the raw sensuality surrounding her, was it Tristan who ignited her passion?

At the top of the stairs, they came to a long, crowded hallway. People gathered at the railing on the right, taking in the bird’s-eye view of the playroom below them. On the left, at least a dozen doors stretched down the length of the hall. Large picture windows separated them, with people at the glass peeking in. It reminded her of the upper level of a mall, where you could stroll, window-shop, and enjoy the view, except the shoppers here were wearing a lot less clothing.

Several doors were closed, with red lights glowing above each one. Tristan guided her to the first room with a green light. As she peered inside, she was surprised to find a schoolroom that bore a striking resemblance to her old social studies classroom from high school. There was a wall-mounted blackboard and a teacher’s desk up front, with four smaller desks facing it. Despite the outdated chalkboard, the attention to detail throughout the rest of the room was impressive, with a globe in the corner, shelves overflowing with books, a bulletin board brimming with newspaper clippings, and colorful maps and posters decorating the walls.

Beside her, Tristan commented, “It’s rare that the classroom is available. Teacher/student role play is quite popular. Would you like your introduction here?”

She glanced down the hall at the remaining rooms. “Could we explore further?”

“Certainly.”

When Piper stopped at the next open doorway, she immediately froze. The faux stone walls with flickering sconces were nearly identical to her fantasy dungeon. What made it different was the torture equipment straight out of the Dark Ages. Not even her mind was that twisted.

There was a rustic wood table with metal shackles and a kneeling bench that looked like it came from a church confessional. Nearby, a set of stocks awaited its next victim. Whips, paddles, and an assortment of scary-looking metal tools hung from hooks on one wall, their purpose she dared not imagine. What truly commanded attention, though, was the eight-foot cross in the corner, bathed in a crimson spotlight, and adorned with more restraints and straps than she could count.

“Let me guess,” she uttered while taking it all in. “The Spanish inquisitors are on their lunch break?”

Tristan made a weird noise, a mix between a grunt and a snort, like stifled laughter. Caught off guard, since she had never heard him laugh before, she tilted her head back and looked up at him. His usual reserved expression remained unchanged. Humor didn’t seem to be his forte. And how sad was that?

“This is the mini-dungeon,” he informed her. “Except for the period tools, which aren’t for use other than shock value, everything is also available downstairs.”

“Why replicate it?”

“A thoroughly conducted inquisition often needs time and space, both of which are limited downstairs.” He inclined his head toward the room. “Would you like to take a closer look?”

“Yes,” she replied confidently, causing his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise. “At the other rooms,” she added with a slight smile, walking past the window toward the next open door.

When she looked inside, her breath caught in her throat at the sheer opulence that greeted her. From the grand, satin-draped four-poster bed to the stacks of vibrant jewel-toned pillows and the shimmering fabric adorning the walls, every detail exuded luxury and splendor.

“Now we’re talking,” she said, grinning.

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