Page 3 of For the Sub

As he stood, he put down his glass.

Brandy—so very perfect—didn’t glance up.

He placed his forefinger beneath her chin and gently tipped her head back, and their gazes met in a collision of need and desire.

Oh hell. You are perfect.

She smelled of cinnamon with a tangy undercurrent of arousal. The spicy scent intrigued him, consuming him with sensual fire. “I’d be honored.”

The answering slow, sensuous curve of her lips melted ice from his emotions. “After you,” he encouraged, dropping his hand.

Once she’d scooped up his glass, she started toward the main house.

Her curvy hips swayed from side to side, not in an exaggerated movement, but with a natural, feminine grace.

He couldn’t look away.

Responding to a male instinct as old as time to mark her as his, he placed his fingers against the small of her back.

Gregorio—the Den’s caretaker and Damien Lowell’s second in command—opened the patio doors for them.

“We’ll be availing ourselves of one of the playrooms,” Niles informed him.

Obviously surprised by the news, Gregorio drew his dark eyebrows together.

“I see.” He accepted the glass from Brandy and spoke directly to her. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Niles gritted his teeth. “I’ll take good care of her.”

“See that you do,” Gregorio replied, sparing Niles a glance.

The man’s overt concern annoyed the hell out of Niles. He might not have participated in a personal scene in years, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be trusted.

With a nod toward the watchful Gregorio, Niles guided Brandy through the kitchen then down the stairs that led to Damien’s elaborate dungeon.

Then it occurred to him that there might be something he didn’t know.

He’d been so lost in his own past that he wasn’t being considerate enough of Brandy. “Gregorio is very protective of you,” he observed once he’d guided her to private corner.

“I’m a friend, in addition to being an employee he’s responsible for,” she replied.

Niles studied the emotion in her eyes. “Anything special I need to know about?”

“No, Sir.”

“Any preference on which room you’d like to use?” Niles owned a production company that often filmed at the Den. He knew the rooms well, all the apparatus that was available in each, as well as all of the implements he could use on her pretty body.

“Sir?”

Clearly she expected him to make the decisions.

Under normal circumstances, he would. But this evening was anything but ordinary. “This was your suggestion,” he reminded her. “So I’m betting you have an idea or two about what you’d like to have happen.”

“In that case, Sir…”

Her soft smile knocked him on his ass.

“First door on the right,” she finished.

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