Page 104 of Ready For His Rule

Time for apprehension to make an encore. “At my service…for what?” she charged.

Max straightened, trading a secretive look with Zeke.

Ohhhh no, they didn’t.

Tracy jolted forward by a step, brandishing her put-up-or-shut-up look. Just as swiftly, she was jerked back to Franz’s side, his grip possessive steel around her middle.

“Well,” Max finally murmured. “This just got a hell of a lot more fun.”

Tracy tossed an open fume at all three of them—but especially the tight-lipped hulk at her side. Okay, she was more at his side, but semantics weren’t key on the priorities list right now.

Addressing his imperious, but holy-effing-hell delicious, glower? Another story completely. But dammit, she’d addressed dour foreign leaders, self-important senators, and more ranting lobbyists than one person should in a lifetime. She had this.

“Fun?” she repeated, barely moving her lips. “Want to fill me in on what that’s all about?”

Franz’s gaze went heavy, sultry. His nostrils flared as his brood took on a new heat…sparking straight into the triangle between her thighs.

Shit, shit, shit.

Maybe she didn’t have this.

“In due time.”

Nope. Definitely not. How the man could turn three words into verbal arousal, she had no idea, nor was in any condition to ponder, as he pulled her toward a long hallway offering the same gray-walled bleakness as the elevator foyer. While his words had to be the most unacceptable basis for following him, Tracy did just that—battling a mix of dread and anticipation.

Why did this still feel like he led her for processing in a medieval prison? And why did that concept make her wetter in every intimate crevice? What the hell did that say about her? Was she out of her damn mind? Maybe it was best that Blake LeGrange just go on leading the free world. Maybe there was a serious crack in her psyche, and it was a better idea to—

“Tracy.”

Though his low dictate refused to be ignored, his grip was the leash on her focus. Her head snapped up. Her senses refunneled on him. “What?” she retorted.

“Stop thinking.”

“Excuse me?”

“Stop thinking.” His accentuation, sharp but sleek, matched the double doors they approached. The portals were made of black steel. They had no handles and were bound at the middle by a key card panel made to look like a big silver padlock. “And start trusting.”

She worked her hand tighter against his. “Trying, dammit.” Though her shaky tone hardly backed up the point, even as Franz bussed the top of her head. Adding insult to injury, she swung a nervous glance back at the dim hall they’d just traversed—wondering why she felt like it was about to disappear in some treacherous fog. “Wh-where are we?”

“We haven’t left the building.” He murmured it into her hair, spreading warmth across her scalp. Tenacious tendrils of the heat dripped down, past her neck, until pooling behind both her nipples. The man definitely noticed. Dammit, where was a padded bra when a girl needed one? “The complex has two parts,” he went on to explain. “Residential and commercial. This corridor is one of the bypasses.”

Max, sidling up to stand on the other side of his friend, “When one owns a kink club, it’s also nice to have a secret entrance for members who need discretion.”

Unbelievably, that part of the explanation cracked her lips open on a smile—as many other parts of her were showered in shards of anticipation. “Oh?” she returned, giving the look an impish edge. “Is that what I am, now? A ‘member’ of discretion?”

John’s chuckle was like island thunder, dominant but gentle. “Woman, you are more than a member tonight.”

She let him gather her fully against him. The broad expanse of his chest was such an ideal snuggling zone. “That so, my Sir?”

“Hmmm. Yes.”

“So what, exactly, am I?”

He didn’t hum that time—though both Max and Zeke did, ending with sounds she couldn’t identify. Were they snickering? Clearing their throats? Maybe both, but attempting to be discreet? And why did she care—despite how the rejoinders made her think an orange jumpsuit was in her near future?

Focus on your Sir.

Trust your Sir.

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