Page 14 of Dance for Me

The woman sitting before him now was intrinsically different to the one who walked in behind him and threw herself into his visitor’s chair like a put-upon teenager. She really was the most enigmatic creature he’d ever come across. “Thank you. I-I’m sorry for being such a bitch. I get...snarky when I’m uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable wasn’t the word he’d use to describe her, Braun thought, but let it slide. He wasn’t going to turn this into a confrontation when she had the guts to apologize to him without prompting. “I appreciate the apology, Boadicea. One bit of advice, darlin’? If you get nervous out there when the club’s occupied and you need to mouth off, come to Liam or me and blow off some steam. We’ll give you leeway on your temper.” Braun rubbed his chin carefully. “Do not get shitty with the clients. Should you unleash that delightful inner bitch on a Dominant...you might find your ass is forfeit to a punishment.”

She looked unbearably sad and young then. Her fingers intertwined worriedly. “I know. I saw the stipulation in the club rules.”

Promising, he decided. Very promising. For her to read and recognize the rule of disrespect and still sign the document...well, there was hope for her yet. He gentled his voice to the point it soothed the lines of tension around her eyes. “Good girl, darlin’. I’m very pleased you’ve taken notice of the rules and remembered them.”

Bodie looked startled, but as his words sank in, an attractive flush of arousal crept up her throat. On her lap, her knotted hands pressed hard into the apex of her thighs.

Hmmm, the little scared mouse became stimulated by praise.

Handy to know.

Before she could freak herself out by overthinking her reaction, Braun made the decision to leave things on a high note. He rose and rounded the desk, offering his hand and waiting for her to choose her stance. Would she remain docile or would she take a protective stand?

When she swallowed hard enough for her throat to click nervously, Braun smiled kindly. He fucking loved how her brain worked. She hesitated before slipping a slightly damp, incredibly cold set of fingers against his palm, then jolted when he wrapped his big hand completely around hers and drew her to her feet.

“That’s a clever girl,” he crooned, leading her toward the door. If he didn’t get her at least twenty feet away from him in the next thirty seconds, his immaculate self-control threatened to revolt. “You know where to find Liam?”

Bodie nodded, seemingly struck mute by the capture of her hand. Meek as a lamb, she followed him without a single sharp word or ball-busting glare.

Perfect.

With one last good girl to make her happy, Braun nudged her out of his office and shut the door behind her before he could drag her back in and plunder her mouth. He ran his hands over his face and blew out a long breath, ignoring the throb of his cock trapped in his pants.

He was a sucker for a woman with fire in her blood, with a little something about her when she wasn’t immersed in a scene. Give him character and spirit any day of the week, as long as she could submit to him and offer him her trust.

Bodie might be a train wreck for a Dom in her present state of mind, but the potential was there to guide her into becoming a strong, confident submissive if someone had the time, patience, and desire to throw himself in front of the train.

*

Something weird had just happened.

Boadicea couldn’t put her finger on it, couldn’t define it, but something had shifted inside her the moment she set her hand in Braun’s. She was shaken down to the core, rocked by the surge of unwelcome arousal that smacked her in the womb and caused a warm rush of slick to gather in her private parts.

She actually liked him.

No, she didn’t. Uh-uh. No, she did not like Braun or any part of what he was involved in. Master of perversions, King of sexual deviancy. She had an inkling of what would go on when Avalon opened its doors in a couple hours and visions of orgies danced in her head like a pornographic carousel.

But he was nice, wasn’t he? Even when she’d insulted him and tried to give the money back, he hadn’t lost his temper or raised his voice. Voice quiet and calm, he’d lulled her into a state of acceptance. Just like in his office. Her anxiety attack made her act like a child, stress showing itself in temper rather than tears, but he’d simply...ignored her.

By not feeding her attitude, he’d starved her of the fuel needed to keep the attack running. As though she was a candle in a jar, burning all the oxygen that drifted close, and he was the lid sliding into place to smother the flame of her distress.

Fuck.

Braun Fitzpatrick was a dangerous man, she realized. The way he acted around her, the good girls and careful touches...he posed a threat to her perfectly constructed fortress of protection. If he had a mind to, and she had no doubts a man with his dominant nature would, he could raze years of meticulous self-preservation defenses to the ground and simply stroll into the dark, shitty tempest of what she truly was inside.

It cannot be allowed.

A little unsteady on her feet, Bodie staggered down the hallway back toward the “social area”. She couldn’t afford to think about Braun anymore, not if she wanted to stay strong and in control. Not when there was a job to do, a performance to plan, and a testing night ahead of her.

Braun’s office was tucked just to the right of the doors leading to the next section of the club. There were no windows in the wooden tunnel, but the lighting was warm, ushering her along. The carpet beneath her feet was soft, springy, beneath her feet and the color of crushed blackberries. Not quite black, not quite purple, but an attractive mix of both.

By the time she made it back to the first barn, she was steadier. The quiet, confused woman who’d slipped into position and been blinded by Braun’s magnetism drifted away again, leaving the Bodie she knew and understood in her place.

Liam leaned on the bar, laughing with a strange man who looked like some kind of Nordic god. She considered them both warily, pausing in the doorway before she attracted their attention, and weighed up the newcomer.

At least two inches taller than Liam, lean and fit. Dressed in black leather pants and, oh joys, a black silk shirt with the Avalon logo in silver on the breast pocket. Okay then, the guy was a club monitor. His hair was cropped short and the whitest shade of blond she’d ever seen.

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