Page 50 of On His Terms

The technique must have worked because the alarm dragged her to a groggy consciousness. She’d hit the snooze button often enough that she was running late for an appointment with a potential new client. The coffee maker took its sweet time, and she glared at it, as if that would hurry it along.

She was pouring the first cup when she remembered she still needed to practice her movements.

With a frustrated sigh, she glanced at the clock on the microwave. Since she’d done extra the day before, surely that put her ahead for today, right? She dragged a hand through her hair, wishing it worked that way. Either she intended to keep her word, or not. If she’d jumped out of bed when the alarm had first rung, she wouldn’t be in a time crunch.

After taking a long drink of the life-sustaining caffeine, she knelt. It took a lot of mental effort to keep herself calm rather than panicking about the time.

Fortunately, her potential new client called to say he was behind schedule, and she arrived at her office half an hour ahead of him.

By the time she greeted him and showed him into the conference room, she was cool and competent, impressing him enough that he signed on the dotted line. And of course, she and her team would have to begin work immediately to promote his upcoming independent movie. Still, that didn’t stop her and Jennifer—Chelsea’s executive administrator—from grabbing hold of each other and screaming before doing a dance around the office.

At last! After years of hard work, scraping and scrimping, and paying off bills, her business was finally achieving the success she’d dreamed of.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and they brought lunch in.

All too soon, four-thirty arrived. Even though they’d been swamped, thoughts of being with Master Alexander had intruded. She’d been relieved to stay busy all day, otherwise she wasn’t sure how she’d have survived the nine hours.

She hurried home for a shower, and to shave properly before meeting him. The sensual tension that had been simmering through her body heated to a boil. She needed him—and relief.

As she drove to his house, she distracted herself with outrageously loud dance music.

She arrived with enough time to get inside and prepare herself for whatever was going to happen at six o’clock.

As per his instructions, she let herself in.

After securing the door behind her, she called out a greeting, but silence echoed back at her.

A little unnerved, she undressed then walked into the living room, drew a steadying breath, and lowered herself to the kneel up position near the fireplace.

She couldn’t help but glance at the items he’d left on the side table—the dreaded collar, a box of surgical gloves, lube, several coiled lengths of restraints, and a curved metal hook. Something that might have been a tawse lay across the arm of the couch.

Rather than focusing on what might happen, she stared straight ahead, jumping at every sound.

Is Master Alexander even in the house?

Not that it mattered. She had her instructions, and no doubt this was a test.

Finally, heavy footsteps fell on the hardwood floor, and it took all her internal fortitude to remain where she was, waiting for him.

Long, interminable moments passed in silence.

But she breathed in the undeniable scent of him—determination, undercut with crisp mountain air—and that slammed her pulse into overdrive.

“Very good,” he said.

Hot and heavy, his approval slid through her.

“Please present yourself for inspection.”

Forcing herself to be mindful, she stood with her hands behind her neck, then brought her shoulder blades together. After parting her legs wide, she looked straight ahead.

“You have been working on that.”

She wanted to please him. Why it should matter so much, she didn’t know. “Thank you, Sir.”

When he stepped in front of her, he took away her next breath.

He was dressed casually, in jeans, motorcycle boots, and a tight black T-shirt. Judging by the stubble on his jaw, he’d obviously missed his morning shave. That made him appear all the more dangerous.

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