Page 41 of Protecting Lanie

“Because you don’t want to,” explained Alicia.

“And I’ll tell you something else,” said Reyna, “sometimes you submit even when you don’t want to because as much peace as you find in your submission, he finds in his dominance.”

“That’s gorgeous,” said Samantha as she tied off the laces. “Don’t forget your thong.”

Lanie dangled the thing from her finger. “It’s so small I’m not sure anyone would notice if I didn’t have it on.”

The other women laughed. “Trust me, they’d notice.”

Lanie headed up to the lounge, where she could see the dungeon floor. The club was alive tonight, bodies pressed together in intimate dances, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne, leather, and desire. The deep, sensual bass of the music pulsed beneath her feet, and for the first time in a long time, she felt grounded. She needed this space. She needed control.

What she didn’t need was the overwhelming presence of the man currently stalking toward her.

She felt him before she saw him.

The moment Archer entered the room, the energy shifted. Conversations quieted. Bodies moved instinctively out of his way, and heads turned. Even in a place filled with dominant men, Archer owned the space with nothing more than a glance.

Lanie swallowed, her pulse skipping wildly as she tried to ignore the way her body responded to him. She knew she was playing with fire, but damn it, she would not let him dictate her every move.

She reached the bar, ordering a drink she knew she wouldn’t finish. Tessa raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, sliding the glass across the counter just as a large, familiar hand wrapped around Lanie’s wrist.

Her breath caught.

"Up. Now," Archer commanded, his voice low, dangerous.

Lanie yanked her arm back, glaring at him. "Excuse me?"

Archer’s jaw ticked, but his voice remained controlled. "You don’t get to run from me, little one."

She scoffed, tossing back a sip of her drink. "You don’t own me, Archer."

The growl that rumbled in his chest sent a shiver down her spine. "Don’t I?"

Before she could fire back, he grabbed her waist, his grip firm but not bruising, and pulled her from the lounge into theshadows of a private alcove. The music drowned out her gasp, the darkened corner shielding them from prying eyes while still leaving them close enough to hear the hum of the surrounding club.

"Let go," she hissed, pushing at his chest.

He didn’t budge.

Archer’s fingers slid into her hair, tugging her head back just enough to expose the delicate line of her throat. His other hand skimmed down her arm, finding her wrist, pinning it to the wall beside her head.

"You want to keep fighting me?" he murmured, his lips a breath away from her ear. "Fine. But don’t think for a second you’re walking out of here without knowing exactly who you belong to."

Lanie gasped, her breath coming faster. "You can’t just...”

His palm closed around her throat.

Not hard. Not hurting. Just a firm, commanding grip that made her body go liquid and her mind short-circuit.

"I can," he murmured, his voice dark silk, laced with possession. "And I will."

Her back pressed against the cool wall, her body caged between Archer and the hard surface. The club pulsed around them, but in this moment, it was justhim.

Just them.

“Is everything all right?” asked King.

“Back off,” Archer growled.

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