Page 104 of The Sadist and the Brat

Still chuckling, he aimed the remote at the TV and paused the movie, then rose to go into the kitchen for a bottle of water. He grabbed two and carried them back to the sofa.

She emerged a moment later, her hair smoothed into place. Shooting him a haughty look, she strode past him to the front door, plucked her purse off the hook by the door and carried it back to the sofa. He watched, amused, as she hauled out a pack of tissues, a small bottle of nail polish remover, and a bottle of sparkling gold nail polish.

She glanced up, caught him staring. “What? I need to touch up my pedicure.”

He waved a hand. “You just carry all that around with you?”

She tugged off the fuzzy socks he’d given her to wear. “No. I took it to my mom’s thinking I could fix it there, but between helping with dinner and the drama after, I didn’t get a chance.”

“Ah.” He watched her pull her left foot up to prop it on the edge of the sofa and uncap the bottle of remover.

“And dammit, I forgot to give my mom that bottle of anise extract.”

He eyed the purse warily. “It’s in there?”

“It can’t hurt you,” she said, amused.

“You never know.” He nudged her bag away with his foot and picked up his water. “Are you going to the meeting next week?”

“Sure,” she said, carefully removing the polish from her big toe. “Well, the party anyway. The board meetings are boring, so I usually skip them.”

“I don’t blame you,” he muttered. He’d joined the board of the BDSM club because he’d wanted to be involved in his community, and for the most part he didn’t regret it. But there were times when he absolutely wished he didn’t have to be there. “What are you going to wear?”

She glanced at him, curious amusement in her hazel eyes. “Since when do you care what I wear?”

“I don’t, unless it interferes with my scene plans,” he said. “In which case I’ll just make you take it off.”

She set the remover on the floor and reached for the bottle of polish. “What if I want to keep it on?”

“I guess you’ll have to choose between fashion and orgasms.”

“Harsh,” she said, and carefully painted a sparkly gold strip down her toenail. “I might be able to play in it. What kind of scene?”

“Nice try,” he drawled, enjoying the impish twinkle in her eyes.

“Fine,” she muttered, mouth twitching as she fought a smile. “If I can’t play in it, I’ll take it off. But can I have two hours to look cute in it first?”

“I have no problem with that,” he allowed. “So long as it doesn’t interfere with the collar.”

She dipped the brush back in the bottle and turned back to her toes. “What collar?”

“Your collar.”

“I don’t wear a collar.”

“You will on Saturday.”

She jerked, the brush skidding across her toes. “What?”

He sat up and plucked the bottle of remover from the floor. “Here.”

She reached out to take it, her gaze locked on his face. “That’s a joke, right?”

He kept his expression calm, his voice mild. “No. You seem surprised.”

“I am,” she admitted, and grabbed the pack of tissues.

“I don’t know why.” He eased back against the sofa, fighting to stay relaxed while she soaked a tissue in remover and attacked her gold-streaked toes. “It’s basic protocol. The collar makes it clear we’re together, that you’re under my protection.”

---