Page 68 of Over the Line

She reminded herself that a modern, empowered woman would contact him.

After stalling another hour, she grabbed her phone and scrolled to his contact information. Her heart thundered. Why did a simple telephone call matter so much?

Finally, gathering her courage, half hoping she’d get his voicemail, she touched the green icon.

“Welcome home, Sydney,” he said by way of greeting, his rich, gruff voice spilling into her ear. “Does this mean you want your pretty little ass reddened?”

Chapter Seven

Master Michael’s sexy, dominant purr melted her from the inside out, and she collapsed her shoulders against the refrigerator.

“Glad to be home?”

Colorado was a great base, but she’d always considered it a temporary place to stay while she decided what she wanted to do next.

This time, though, she’d been happy to return, no matter how small and unimaginative her home was. She’d told herself it had nothing to do with seeing him again, but she knew she’d been lying to herself. “I am.”

For a moment, she paused. It would be easy to fall into an inane conversation. When he’d answered the phone, he’d called her Sydney, rather than by the nickname he’d used during their time together.

“Thank you for asking, Sir. I spent a few days in Miami with my girlfriends from college, then I guided a pair of honeymooners on a hike of the Continental Divide. They couldn’t wait for me to pitch the tents at night, and it took them a while to get up in the mornings. I had a lot of free time.”

“Same for me. I occupied myself by looking at your new shoes and imagining you in them.”

Her breath vaporized. “I was thinking about that flogger.”

“It was custom-made for you. I have others, but I wanted you to be able to endure a long, long session.”

She allowed the appliance to take more of her weight. “I noticed it matches the outfit,” she said, aiming for a casualness she was nowhere close to feeling.

“Always an added bonus.” He allowed silence to gather for a few seconds before speaking again. “I’m glad you called.”

Her shoulders loosened as tension unwound. How did he always know the right thing to say? “I didn’t know if it would be okay.”

“My Sydney, I’m on the porch drinking a glass of wine and looking at the fence.”

Her heart missed its next beat.

“I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, and I also suspected you needed time to sort through your thoughts. I wasn’t going to call you, but I was hoping you’d contact me.”

So he’d been waiting for her to make the next move. She appreciated that he wasn’t trying to crowd her. By calling the Den and getting her contact information, he’d reached out and let her know he was interested in her.

“Did you masturbate while you were gone?”

What? His question caught her off guard, so much so that she answered without hesitating. “No.” She pushed herself upright and paced the kitchen floor. “I was too tired when I got to bed in Miami—there’s quite a nightlife.”

“And on the hike, the couple didn’t inspire you?”

She imagined his smile. “That’s not the right word. I was frustrated more than anything.”

“Tell me why,” he encouraged in that seductive, thrilling voice of his.

When he spoke to her in that tone, she’d do anything for him. “I want to have a real experience, not just a fantasy.”

“I can certainly arrange that.”

Her insides turned molten.

“When are you available?”

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