Page 30 of Pressure

She whirled at his apology. It wasn’t one she’d been expecting. “It wasn’t all your fault. I learned that in therapy.”

“Are you getting what you need?”

She twisted at a bow on her dress. “Depends on what you’re talking about,” she murmured.

He stepped toward her, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. A sigh very nearly escaped as she let herself lean into his touch.

“I’m talking about getting a feel for this place and the people. Do we need to go sit in the bar so you can actually talk to people? What did you think I was talking about?”

Backing away from his hand, she inhaled deeply. “That’s what I thought.”

“Liar,” he said, his gaze boring into her.

“Maybe. But I’m not going there with you.”

His hands disappeared into his pockets. “Understood. I brought you in here to check in. But people also know it’s rare for me not to play with my subs, so if anyone asks, we were in here getting hot and heavy.

God. She did not need more help imagining getting hot and heavy with him.

“What prompted this place?” Changing the subject was vital to her wellbeing.

“Solitaire? It was the dream of a dying man. At least, he thought he was dying. Very well could have.”

She lifted an eyebrow, trying to imagine Russell or Patrick, or any of the others on death’s door. “Which one?”

“You haven’t met him yet. Until a few months ago he was undergoing cancer treatment and his wife was finishing a degree. He owns the property, but he set up a board of directors to run the place and stepped aside once everything was up and running. He shows up for parties occasionally. They might be here tomorrow night but I’m not sure.”

“But why here? In the middle of Colorado?”

“It was an impressive piece of property and he wanted some place that none of us lived. Not so much for anonymity, but if everyone is traveling to get here, that’s just one more thing that brings us all together. It’s our little hideaway. A retreat of sorts. That’s one reason we had the cabins built. There’s also another building on the grounds that we don’t really use. There’s been talk of expanding to make it more of a resort so we can have week-long events a couple times a year. Lots of big ideas get tossed around. Mostly, though, it’s just a place where we can all escape our daily lives and fully surround ourselves with the lifestyle we love.”

Marissa’s heart constricted as she listened to him describe a place that meant so much to him.

“That’s beautiful.” Extending her hand to him, she gazed into his eyes and waited for him to take it.

“I promise right now that I’ll do everything I can to help you take care of the problems you’re facing so your hideaway stays safe. Despite our past, you can consider me all in.”

He took her hand and tugged her to him, crushing her in a hug. “Thank you, Marissa.”

The feel of his hard chest against her cheek nearly brought her to her knees. Lifting her head, she stared up at him. His eyes sparkled with unshed tears and she let her arms circle his waist.

“Fuck,” he growled as he dipped his head to press his mouth to hers.

The kiss was heated and rough. Five years of anger, hurt, and need flowed out of both of them and manifested in a teeth clashing, lip biting kiss.

She pulled away when she tasted blood. Was it his or was it hers? Her fingers gingerly touched her now swollen lips.

The music from the dungeon grew louder and they both turned to find a woman pulling the curtain open.

“There you are, Master Lance.”

The air shifted and Marissa watched Lance slip seamlessly into Dom mode.

“I should say the same to you, Jodie.” He glanced at his smart watch and lifted an eyebrow. “You owe Isabelle an apology for making her cover your shift at the desk, and then you can meet me in the parlor so we can talk about your tardiness.”

The girl bristled and for a moment, Marissa thought she was going to argue. Instead she bowed her head and started to back out.

“Wait.” Lance’s tone was commanding and god damn it if it wasn’t making Marissa wet and needy.

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