Dee bit her lip then touched Aiello’s arm. “You trust him around Bella?”
The sense of possession Colin thought had died a year ago burst forth, and he wanted to step between them, severing even that light contact. He forced the impulse back, because he wanted to hear Aiello’s answer too. Needed to hear it, because now he was questioning his own instincts, and that wasn’t good.
Aiello nodded, and his face showed fierce belief in what he was saying. “I trust him with Bella’s life, and she means the world to me. I’m telling you, Dee, they’re wrong. Gabe isn’t capable of this.”
“Okay,” she said, easing away from them. “In that case, I need to head out for a couple of hours. I’ll be back by two.”
Colin found himself staring at her ass, the curve of her hip, the length of her legs as she left the conference room. She was gone before he even thought to ask her where she was going.
When he turned back, Aiello was staring after her too. Jesus, he needed to do some serious work on his impulse control, because he wanted to wipe the appreciative look right off the guy’s face. And once they were undercover at some club or party, there would be a fuckload of people staring at more than her jeans-covered ass.
* * *
Delia stared out the window of the low-slung sports car they’d been given to use for this op, looking up at the beautiful home Marcus had told them was a B&B catering to people in the BDSM lifestyle. There was no sign, just as Marcus had said, but she recognized it from his description.
She couldn’t believe she and Colin were really doing this. The fact that this was for the job was even more mind-blowing. If her partner had been anyone but Colin, she’d have to think long and hard about whether she could do it.
But it was Colin, the man who starred in all her D/s fantasies, and hopefully that would be enough. Even if it was just for work.
Colin circled the front of the car and came around to her side. Still unsure whether or not income level played any part in this case, they’d erred on the side of caution. He was dressed like a businessman, in a well-cut suit and tie, his often-unruly hair tamed by a professional haircut and style. With a tight smile, he opened her door and helped her out, which wasn’t easy with the ice-pick heels and short dress she was wearing. “It’s showtime.”
She swallowed, staring at the outrageously sexy man in front of her. He looked the same, but also like a stranger. His personality usually ran warm, but today he was cool and in control. She shivered as his hand cupped her elbow, holding her possessively.
A tall, fit man stepped out onto the wide front porch, dressed in dark dress pants and a dark shirt, a warm, welcoming smile on his face. His utter assurance and watchful eyes told her this was the man they were here to see. He strode down the stairs and met them at the driveway.
“Mr. and Mrs. Reardon? I’m Gabe McConnell.” He held out his hand. “Welcome to Bondage and Breakfast.”
Colin shook it. “Colin Reardon, and this is my wife, Delia.”
She had to force herself not to flinch at the sound of their undercover names. She wasn’t used to being a Mrs. anyone, but they’d decided married was the best cover they could go with.
“Very nice to meet you both,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand as well. “As you requested, Mr. Reardon, you’re my only guests tonight. I’ve ordered dinner be brought in. As soon as you’re settled in, we can begin.”
Her stomach clenched. This was really going to happen. She was trusting Marcus’s opinion and Colin’s gut, but what if they were wrong and McConnell was their arsonist? Colin started to walk, but she was rooted to the spot and didn’t move an inch. Couldn’t move an inch. When Colin reached for her arm, she pulled it back. Shit, she wasn’t ready yet, and not just because of McConnell. She stared at her feet wondering when, exactly, she’d become a coward.
A hand cupped her chin lightly, lifting her face. To her utter shock, it wasn’t Colin, but Gabe McConnell, and she flinched. She flicked her eyes to Colin, who looked as stunned as she felt.
“One moment, please, Mr. Reardon,” McConnell murmured, searching her face, meeting her eyes. “Mrs. Reardon, do you want to be here?”
Colin’s eyes widened, and his incredulity wasn’t completely feigned. “Excuse me?”
McConnell met Colin’s gaze, held it for a long, tense moment, and when he spoke, his voice was diamond hard and just as sharp. “Your wife looks uncomfortable to be here, and it doesn’t seem as though she wants to go inside. Yes, Bondage and Breakfast caters to Doms and subs, but submission needs to be completely consensual. I won’t have it any other way. I’ve turned away couples from this class before for exactly that reason.” His voice softened as he turned back to her. “So I’ll ask the question again. Do you want to be here, Mrs. Reardon?”
Delia could hear the thread of steel in his voice and knew if she answered no, there would be no lessons. Since that went against the reason they were here in the first place, she needed to speak up, to get a damn grip, before he turned them away. “I’m sorry. I do want to be here,” she said softly, looking over at Colin. “Just nerves, I guess. I’ve wanted this for a long time.” Truer words had never been spoken.
“Are you sure?” he asked, locking eyes with her as if he were reading her soul, ignoring Colin completely.
If someone asked her, at that very moment, if McConnell was guilty or innocent, she’d have placed her whole bet on innocent. He was either exactly the kind of man Marcus had said he was, or he was a very good at covering up his true nature. “Positive.”
He nodded once, let go of her chin and headed up the stairs.
Chapter Eight
“What just happened out there, Delia?” Colin asked softly, standing just inside the threshold of the room. She still looked shaky, and he couldn’t believe it. Dee was a tough-as-nails detective, and she’d turned a whiter shade of her always-pale before McConnell had played the protector card.
Not that Colin was going to complain about that. As a matter of fact, it made him feel a little better about the whole setup and what he was asking Dee to do for the job, especially considering the connection they’d found yesterday between McConnell and the homeowners. It wasn’t proof he was innocent, but if McConnell was willing to turn away paying customers before they even set foot in the door, then it was likely this really was what Aiello said, a safe place for people into kink to play.
She dropped to the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.
His heart stuttered. He sat down next to her on the bed, hesitating briefly before putting his hand on her back. “If you don’t feel comfortable doing this, then we don’t do it. We’ll find another way to get in.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No. We need to. And I want to. That’s what happened.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m a little worried about McConnell’s role in all this, but I can handle that part.” Her wide eyes met his, pleading, begging for understanding. “But I want to know what D/s is all about. I wish to hell I could be completely professional and say everything that goes on here this weekend will be about the job, but I can’t. It won’t be. And I froze, because now you’ll know.”
He’d once taken an accidental, unexpected blow to the chest during training, and he’d been so stunned he’d been unable to breathe. That was how her admission felt.
“Jesus.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt? What you wanted?”
“When I first met you, I didn’t know you well enough to share something that personal. And then by the time I got to know you better, things were already rocky between us. I didn’t think it was relevant at that point. We had bigger issues.” She shoved her hair back, out of her eyes, and dropped her gaze to the floor again. “We have even bigger issues now.”
No shit.
He reached over, cupped her chin as McConnell had done in the driveway and forced her gaze to his, going for pure honesty. “I’m only
going to ask one more time, and not because I think you’re incapable. I’m asking because I care about you. Can you handle doing this with me, in spite of our history? In spite of the fact that McConnell may be involved?”
She took a long, almost uncomfortable look into his eyes, searching for something, blew out a long breath and squared her shoulders. “Yep. Let’s get to it.”
Profound relief warred with blatant desire. “Attagirl.”
* * *
Three places were set at one of the small tables dotting the dining room. It would be tight, intimate, but Colin supposed that suited the purpose of this inn just fine. Gabe McConnell stood near the window looking outside. The guy was probably early forties but looked younger except for the gray streaking his hair at the temples. Athletically built but not bulky, more like a runner or a martial artist. He didn’t look like a serial arsonist, but appearances could be deceiving.
“Have a seat, please.” McConnell gestured to the table and lifted two covered plates off the buffet.
Colin held out Dee’s chair for her. After she sat, he bent down and nuzzled her bare neck, a spot he knew was extremely sensitive to her. He’d spent one entire Sunday teasing her there until she’d been ready to kill him. She jumped, but luckily McConnell was facing away from them. He tightened his fingers on her shoulder in warning, and she relaxed slightly.
He sat down next to her, his knee brushing hers under the table, then slipped an arm around her shoulder and started fiddling with the strap of her barely-there black dress.
McConnell set plates of steaming Italian food in front of them, then turned back and grabbed a plate for himself. He sat at the table and poured the wine.
“So, some basic information about Bondage and Breakfast,” he said, lifting his glass of wine for a sip. “We follow safe, sane and consensual rules of play here, with a heavy emphasis on consensual. Safe words are required, and I will stop a scene if I think it’s gotten out of hand. I’m sure you think I was overreacting outside earlier, but safety is my top concern for my guests.”
Colin kept his voice mild. “I didn’t care for the implication that I’d force Delia in any way, but I can appreciate your position.”
McConnell inclined his head. “Tell me what brings you here.”
Time to up the ante. “I’ll let my wife explain. Frankly, I don’t think we should be here, but I agreed to it for Delia’s sake.”
McConnell’s eyebrow rose, but he remained silent.
“I’ve always been interested in domination and submission, but I never thought Colin would go for it. Last month, we were at a party and some interesting things went on there. To my surprise, Colin was as turned on as I was.”
He was suitably impressed when she turned her wide eyes to him, then looked back at the inn’s owner. He knew what McConnell would see in them—trepidation, hopefulness, innocence. She was one hell of an actress, and if Colin hadn’t known the end game, he’d be ready to help her do whatever she wanted.
“But he’s got this possessive, overprotective streak, and thinks D/s sounds abusive. I’ve tried to explain that it’s different. It’s a good pain, or at least I think it is, but he won’t even try.”
He reached out and stroked a finger down Delia’s soft cheek, then turned to McConnell, who was watching them with hooded eyes. “I told Delia I’d give her this weekend to see if we both can live with what she wants.”
McConnell nodded. “Okay. However, I reserve the right to call a halt if I think you—and I mean either one of you—are being emotionally damaged by what’s going on here. Safe, sane and consensual isn’t just for the sub. It’s also applicable for the Dom.”
“Fair enough,” Colin replied, taking another bite of his dinner. In spite of his overall concerns about this whole undercover gig, he was impressed by McConnell’s policies. And he wasn’t getting any hinky vibes from McConnell either, as though the guy was just stringing them along. He seemed sincere.
McConnell turned to Dee. “Tell me what kind of Dom/sub relationship you’re looking for, Delia. In your sexual relationship only?”
“Mostly in the bedroom, but maybe a little bit of outside of it too.”
What the fuck? Colin looked over at Delia, whose cheeks were tipped with pink. “What the hell does that mean?”
A small smile crossed McConnell’s lips. “Some subs prefer to be dominated in all aspects of their life. What they wear, what they eat, where they go and sometimes even who their friends are. They make the conscious decision to give their dominant partner full power over their decisions, 24/7.”
Colin’s back molars ground together in instinctive denial, and his shock wasn’t an act as he turned to Dee. “And you want this? You want me to tell you who you can be friends with? That doesn’t seem like you, babe.”
“I only said a little,” she said defensively. “No way are you telling me who I can be friends with or where I can go. But what to wear?” She squirmed in her seat, fiddled with her wineglass.
To say he was stunned was an understatement. This was an undercover op, sure, but he knew in his heart she was also speaking truth here, sharing bits and pieces of her real desires, and it set his blood on fire. “And the food thing?”
She flushed a deep red. “As a general rule, no. But as a one-time scene? Yes.”
McConnell’s grin widened. “This is going to be fun.”
He couldn’t hold back the growl that rose from his chest, and Delia turned to him, alarm on her face. “Colin?”
Without any conscious thought on his part, he shoved his chair back and stood, reaching for her hand. “We’re leaving.”
* * *
Delia couldn’t decide if Colin was simply playing his role, or really upset by McConnell’s words. She looked in his eyes, wild and stormy. Some of it was a role, but it was truly overlaid by real feelings. Shit, he was jealous? “Colin, please,” she said softly. “I don’t want to go.”
Gabe McConnell spoke up, his voice dry. “Your wife is right about your possessive tendencies, Mr. Reardon. This could be an issue. When I work with a couple, I’m often touching the submissive partner as I show the dominant one how to tie knots safely, or how to administer punishments.”
Her heart pounded at what he described while Colin glared at him, still standing.
His display of jealousy gave her a sliver of hope they might have another chance at being together, but now was so not the time for thoughts like that. They had to get this show back on track, though, because they had a serial killer to catch. Maybe McConnell, although she wasn’t getting that kind of read on him. So she rolled her eyes, playing the frustrated card. “Colin, please. We talked about this. You said you would give it a chance.”
Colin turned to her, and she tried to telegraph calm down to him with just a look. He got it too, and finally he sat back in the chair. But he didn’t let go of her hand, and even pulled her closer so she was nearly sitting on top of him.
He cupped her cheek and dropped a small kiss on it. “I’ll do it for you, but I don’t like it. And for the record, I’m not happy about another man touching you. I won’t promise not to rip his fucking head off if he gets too personal.”
McConnell raised an eyebrow. “Your dominant side just might be as strong as mine, I think.”
“Count on it,” Colin muttered.
McConnell grinned wickedly. “I will. We’ll start with the basics. Safe words are rule number one. Sometimes, in a scene, a sub will cry no when what she really means is yes, or don’t stop. Delia, to make sure you really mean stop, you need to pick a safe word, something that wouldn’t come up in the course of normal conversation. Colin will stop what’s he’s doing, and the scene will end. You can use red to stop or you can pick a word that has meaning to you.”
She’d already thought about this, so the word slipped from her lips before he even finished his sentence. “Shamrock.”
Colin’s eyes flared and dipped to her neck. She’d taken off her four-leaf-clover charm—her sh
amrock—for this operation because its simplicity didn’t fit their undercover roles, but he knew why she’d picked it.
“Good,” McConnell continued. “Shamrock it is. Colin, if Delia says shamrock, there’s something wrong with the scene. It’s too close to her limits, something hurts in a bad way or she’s freaked out. You hear it, you stop. This is nonnegotiable.”
Colin grimaced. “Understood.”
“And you’re going to have a safe word too. You’re new to this, and role-play can get emotional. Not just for the sub, but for the Dom.” He shrugged at Colin’s surprised look. “Delia’s giving you complete control over her physical and emotional well-being, and that’s a lot of responsibility. If you think you’re at a point where something’s not working for you, or you think Delia is too far into the scene to realize she should be using her safe word, you use yours to stop the scene. This is also nonnegotiable, at least while you’re here.”
She swallowed hard as Colin turned hot, heavy eyes on her. “Tree house.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. On the last trip they’d taken together, they’d spent a weekend in the woods in a romantic tree house, cut off from the world before everything had fallen apart.
“Perfect. Stand up, Delia,” McConnell said, a touch of steel in those last three words.
Her body started to shake. She turned her eyes to Colin first, and when he gave an imperceptible nod, she stood, trying not to let her knees knock together.
“That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing. It’d be a shame to mess it up,” McConnell murmured. He turned his focus back to Colin, almost dismissing her. “Wouldn’t you like it if your wife served you dinner naked? Or in nothing but heels and an apron? Depending on how far you take D/s in your life, you can require she be naked from the minute she walks in the door at night. Those are some of the basics you’ll have to discuss between yourselves. You’ll also have to discuss your limits. There will be things Delia will consider an absolute no, or things you will. Those are hard limits, a line you don’t cross. If she’s willing to try something, but is unsure she’ll like it, that’s a soft limit. You can push those, but you need to be ultra-aware of her reactions. It’s your responsibility to respect the boundaries she’s set. Once you know what her boundaries are, you tell her what you expect from her, and she does it. If she doesn’t do it or use her safe word, she gets punished.”
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