Page 57 of Mastered By Desire

I turn sideways on the couch to face her better. The kitchen light behind creates a halo around her head. “It means, do you let your boyfriends call the shots. If I were your boyfriend, would I be in charge?”

“Don’t be a pig.”

“Not being a pig, just asking a question.”

“Forget it.” She throws the blanket off her lap. “I’m going to bed now.”

“It’s early.”

“So?”

“So.” I lean back against the couch, making a show of being comfortable and not budging. “I’m going to stay up and watch a couple more episodes.”

“Fine. You stay out here. I’ll sleep in the bedroom.”

“Fine,” I say, because apparently I’m a teenager.

She pushes herself off the couch, clears her dishes, and takes herself into my bedroom. I lean forward. I want to chase afterher, bend her over the bed, and spank her pert little ass. Then I want to have her writhing on my cock and gasping out her orgasm.

But I don’t get the things I want.

I restart theAcademy of Ghostsepisode, really fucking grateful I’m not watching Season Three.

Leah

As I drive to Low Vice, something Dmitri said during our argument last night keeps running through my mind.Do you let your boyfriends call the shots?

Do I?

I think back to Mick saying he wanted to “open up our relationship.” Which we both knew meant he wanted to fuck other people.

I went along with it. The choice was letting him fuck other people, or breaking up. And for some reason, I didn’t think I could break up with him.

I think back to my past relationships. I bent over backward with every boyfriend, trying to mold myself into someone they wouldn’t leave.

Was all of that obvious to Dmitri? He was watching out for me all that time, because that’s what he does. He must have seen something in my behavior. I wonder if it ate him up inside. It’s the kind of thing that would bother him, because he’s loyal and protective—to a fault.

There’s no time to ruminate further, because I’ve pulled into the tiny lot behind Low Vice and miraculously found a parking spot. I climb out of the car and straighten my silver club dress.It’s too flashy for Low Vice, and more of a fit for the front-facing dance club, Vice. But I didn’t have a lot of options.

I don’t think Dmitri is working tonight, but I didn’t ask, either.

I’m trying not to care.

A bouncer named Paxton lets me into Low Vice, and Gage is waiting for me inside.

The music is what hits me first. Powerful, sensual. I think I hear Bastian Crown’s voice—it sounds like a slow-down remix. Everyone else seems to sway to the music. Even the people sitting down. Even the woman sitting at the desk to check in non-members. Hell, even surly-looking Paxton has an extra rhythm to his movements. Everyone’s driven by the low, sensual bass of the song.

Everyone except Gage. His eyes are on me. He’s utterly still, unaffected.

That unswerving focus is exhilarating. I stare back, heart pounding, stomach fluttering with excitement.

Gage is wearing jeans and a black, long-sleeved button-up shirt. This is the most casual I’ve seen him. His broad shoulders fill the shirt and make him look nearly as muscular as Dmitri.

“Miss L,” Gage says, his eyes warm behind his glasses. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me, too, Sir.”

“Are you ready for your lesson?”

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