“No, not her,” Sasha said. “I was thinking about Fritz.”

   “I still owe him a punch in the gut.” Cole appeared to be in deep thought. “But I might let him get away with it since everything he said was true. What was surprising about him?”

   “I didn’t expect for him to be so poetic.”

   “Fritz? Poetic? I’m not sure he’d think that was a compliment.”

   “That’s why what he said was so surprising. It didn’t fit the image I had of him. It came as a shock to hear him talk about love the way he did. Is he with someone?”

   Coles’ expression clouded over briefly. “No, he’s never been serious about anyone, as far as I know.”

   Which seemed odd to her. “The way he talked it would seem otherwise.”

   “Let me rephrase,” Cole said. “He hasn’t been serious about anyone he’s been with. I do think he has feelings for someone.”

   “Unrequited love sucks.” She kissed him just because she could. “I feel bad for him.”

   “I wouldn’t say it’s unrequited. As far as I know, he’s never told her.”

   Something lurked behind his eyes, she was sure of it now. “You know her, don’t you?”

   He nodded. “I’ve known for years how he feels. I thought he would have done something by now; Kate and I split up ages ago.”

   Two hundred questions ran through her brain, but she only asked one. “Your ex, Kate?”

   “Yes.”

   “Wow.”

   “Ball’s in his court, so to speak. If he wants her, he can man up and do something about it.” He shifted, so he was on his side, facing her. “No more talk of Kate, or Fritz, or Mary Catherine. We have a few more hours before we have to get out of bed . . .” He trailed off and ran a hand down her side, cupping a breast.

   Sasha arched her back in pleasure as he drew her nipple in his mouth. “I take it our breather is over?”

   But Cole’s mouth was too busy to reply and by the time he could speak, taking a breather was the furthest thing from her mind.

New York Times bestselling author Tara Sue Me’s Submissive series is back with a scorching new romance that proves the difference between excitement and pain is just point of view . . .

   Keep reading for a special preview of THE EXPOSURE, available from Berkley October 2016.

Meagan Bishop should have taken the paper cut as a sign. A sign with flashing red lights that read OPEN LATER. But instead, she shook her finger and tried to open the invitation without getting blood on the fine linen paper. And since she insisted on opening the envelope, she really had only herself to blame when the contents punched her in the gut.

   Guy Ferguson had been nominated for an Emmy and he’d invited her to his celebratory dinner. Because, as he’d made a note in his flawless script, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

   She hated the Emmys.

   No, that wasn’t it. She hated that Guy Ferguson had been nominated for one. Guy Ferguson, the man she’d groomed years ago for a correspondent position doing human interest stories. She already worked for the news organization and even though she secretly wanted the job, she instead helped Guy, an acquaintance she knew from college, in his quest. She remembered his smile and hug when he’d received the offer. And in the years that followed, he’d always drop her a note when he climbed another rung on the corporate ladder.

   She told herself she was settled in her executive position for the same media corporation, but the truth was, she still yearned to be in front of the camera.

   Her phone rang, and she shoved the invitation into her desk drawer and answered without looking to see who it was.

   “Meagan Bishop.”

   “Ms. Bishop, this is Officer Smyth at the front desk. There’s a Mr. DeVaan here to see you.”

   DeVaan . . . Luke was here? To see her?

   She almost told the security guard that she was too busy and to send him away. But she was insanely curious as to why Luke would be stopping by.

   “Send him up,” she said. She pulled a compact out of her purse and checked her hair, smoothed the platinum blond strands and made sure there was nothing between her teeth. She reapplied lipstick and chided herself the entire time.

   She’d just popped a breath mint in her mouth when he knocked on her door.

   “Come in,” she said.

   He opened the door and stepped inside. As always, the sight of him made her heart beat a bit faster and her stomach flip. He, of course, didn’t look affected at all. Damn the man. He simply stood there smiling at her with his cocky grin and his gray eyes dancing with amusement.

   “Luke.” She waved toward an empty chair. “What brings you by today?”

   “Thanks for seeing me, Meagan.” He sat down. “I know you’re busy and we’re past mindless small talk. I won’t take up too much of your time.”

   “I appreciate that.”

   “I’ve been asked to collaborate in a book of erotic artistic photographs. A coffee table book. It’s a promising project, but I’ve been rather busy with the clubs lately and I don’t have the contacts I used to.”

   Meagan knew Luke had a side business taking erotic pictures. It wasn’t shocking he’d be asked to do a book. The question was, why did he think she needed to know?

   “Sounds like an amazing opportunity,” she said.

   “I’m glad you think so. I’d like for you to be my model.”

   He spoke it so matter-of-factly, so by-your-leave, she wasn’t sure she heard correctly. “What?”

   “I’d like to showcase you. I want you to be the model in the pictures.”