Page 55 of Flame True

“You want me to stay in a bedroom with no bed and some exercise equipment?” Mulberry asked, taking in the room.

“It has a walk-in closet.” Nick grinned.

She rolled her eyes and followed him up a staircase. “Up here, we have another bedroom and the terrace with the garden.”

The gigantic bedroom was done in beige colours. No decorations on the walls, but everything was neat and orderly. Mulberry guessed he had a cleaning service in. it had the feel of just clean she was used to from staying in hotels.

“Bathroom,” Nick opened the door.

“Nice,” Mulberry glanced at the oversize marble tub and the shower big enough for ten.

“You can take a bath if you want. And I will sleep on the couch.”

“You don’t have another bedroom?” In this place, there had to be more than two.

He didn’t answer, walking out of the room. “Your bag is in the closet to the dresser’s right. If you need anything, I probably have it.”

He spun out of the room and down the stairs, and she followed.

“What’s in there?” Mulberry ran her hand against a woodgrain door. The handle on the door had a red light glowing.

Nick shrugged. “That’s my private room.”

“Is it your dungeon?”

He glowered at her, his hands on either side of the wall. “And what would you know about dungeons, little girl?”

“Enough,” she breathed.

“Really?” His body came against hers, his leg nudging her apart.

His hand slid down to her hip, and he gripped hard.

Being this close to him, she saw he had a slight dimple in his chin.

The dimple disappeared when he glowered like he was doing now.

His cologne was spicy and musky and perfectly balanced. His green eyes pierced her as if he could see everything she was hiding.

Her pulse raced. His perfectly shaped lips were so close to hers.

Holding her breath, she waited, wanting him to kiss her.

Mulberry shuddered, sexy thoughts going through her mind.

Like, what it would be like to have him kiss her again. To feel his muscles under her hands, to watch as he pumped into her from above.

Nick, dark and brooding, she could see him wield a flogger.

She closed her yes.

“Fuzzy pink handcuffs aren’t my speed, and gentle spankings don’t interest me. You’re not my type.” His caustic tone burst anger open in her.

Not the first time she had been told she wasn’t a specific type. Everyone excepted her to be sweet and nice.

“It didn’t feel like that when you kissed me, hot stuff.”

His lips twitched.

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