“Well, I need to be sure, don’t I?” His fingers massaged her breasts lightly. He kissed her shoulder, his day-old beard scratchy, the roughness sending shivers through her. Her nipples tightened, and he noticed, capturing each one between his fingers.

Her body dampened, and she tried to turn, to touch him, but his hands kept her in place, and he nipped her shoulder. “Did I say you could move?” he asked, giving each nipple a pinch, sending shock waves coursing through her.

When he pinned her back against the chair again, heat washed through her. He controlled her so easily. He nibbled under her ear and sucked on her earlobe, and her insides turned molten.

“Then again, I could show you the rest of my home,” he murmured, and pulled her to her feet. “I do have a bedroom.” He led her toward the back of the house, past the kitchen, and a sound made him stop.

Jessica blinked as a ginger-colored cat stalked through the kitchen.

“Ah, about time. I was wondering if you were going to make an appearance,” Sir said to the cat, kneeling to pet it. He looked up. “May I introduce Galahad?”

“Galahad?” she said in disbelief. That had to be the biggest and ugliest cat she’d ever seen, and she’d seem some monsters at the shelter.

“He’s a very chivalrous fellow.”

Jessica knelt on the floor and held out a finger to be delicately sniffed. In approval, the cat nudged her hand, curveted closer to be petted. “You must be quite a fighter.” She frowned at the chewed-on ears and scarred nose.

“He’s been with me about five years, ever since I found him raiding the garbage cans. He was big then, has grown even more since.”

She would never have picked him as a person who would adopt a stray cat. She didn’t know him at all, did she?

“Ben said you were divorced?” she blurted out, then flushed. Yeah, man-woman social skills were definitely not her strength.

“About ten years ago,” he said as if her question wasn’t unusual. “We married young, when I was in the service. Since I spent most of those six years out of the country, we muddled along well enough until I was discharged. After that, we both tried, but when I entered grad school, she called it quits.” He quirked his eyebrows. “Among other differences, she preferred vanilla sex.”

He gave the cat a final pat before rising, holding his hand out for Jessica. She let him pull her to her feet.

“And have you been married?” he asked.

“No. Nothing got quite that far,” she confessed. “I never --” She stopped; she was not going to tell him that sex had been boring.

His eyes glinted like he’d picked that thought out of the air. Jerk. But he simply ruffled her hair before showing her the rest of his home. An office held a bulletin board covered with photos and letters from his pint-size clients. Framed crayon drawings decorated the walls. “That’s quite a collection,” she said, touching one photo of a gap-toothed pixie grinning at the camera.

He moved his shoulders. “I’ve been at it awhile.”

And the children meant enough to him that he’d decorate his office with their artwork, she thought, recalling her colleague’s offices, filled with business awards, pictures of famous clients, golf trophies.

“Two guest rooms there,” he said as they walked down the hall. “And this is my favorite room,” he said, showing her a room filled with older furniture, comfortably overstuffed couch and chairs, a giant TV on one wall, a piano in the corner, and a wall of books. She walked over to examine them: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie, Dashiell Hammett, Ross Macdonald. Her eyebrows rose; she had many of the same books. Her imagination presented an image of sitting on his lap, both of them reading and arguing over murders and red herrings.

Finally, he pushed open the door to his master bedroom. Dark blue carpet, mahogany furniture. Tall arched windows open to the night air.

A king-size bed. Her breath caught. Her body roused as if it had been waiting just for this room.

“I think you’ll like the furniture in this room.” His voice was husky as his hands settled on her waist, warm and hard and --

A rusty meow came from the kitchen.

Sir paused, sighed. “I have to feed him, or he won’t stop complaining.” He kissed her neck then released her. “The bathroom is across the room if you have need.”

When he left, she crossed the room. She definitely had need, now that he’d brought it to her attention. The bathroom was gold and marble with dark green towels. The tub would easily hold two, and the shower could accommodate a football team.

While washing her hands, she glanced in the mirror and gasped. Mascara and eyeliner streaked her cheeks; she looked like a rain-soaked prostitute. She scrubbed it all off, checked the mirror and winced. Even with makeup on, she was just barely pretty; without it…

Scowling at the bare face in the mirror, she snapped the light off and went back into the bedroom. She could hear Sir talking to the cat, his deep voice sparking off flutters in her stomach. He talked to her the same way, she realized. Was she just another pet to him?

Her gaze turned to the bed, and the ugly feeling in her chest grew. How many of those women downstairs had been in his bed? Ben’s words ran through her mind: Women fall all over him, and in his world, he’s known as the best master around. And that’s according to the subs, who would definitely know. Lots of subs apparently.

Would that gorgeous blonde be up here tomorrow? Jessica’s hands closed into fists, but who should she hit? The blonde? Or herself for being so stupid and letting herself get more involved than she should have? He’d never indicated that he wanted her for more than just sex, after all. And she’d enjoyed the sex, hadn’t wanted anything else at first. But every time she learned something about him, she liked him more.

She wanted there to be a them, but he didn’t feel the same way.

There was no future with him. She walked to the wall of windows and gazed outside. Black clouds were moving in, shrouding the moon and stars in darkness. It would be pouring rain before morning.

She wrapped her arms around herself as unhappiness twisted her stomach. Really, she should leave now; she’d learned the folly of driving on country roads in a storm. And there was nothing for her here.

She glanced at the bed, and her throat tightened. She would hurt even worse if she went to bed with him now, let him make love… No, what they had wasn’t love, and that was the problem, wasn’t it?

“Jessica?” He stood in the doorway. She caught the puzzled look in his eyes, the frown, and then he leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms and waiting. Watching her with an intent gaze. Master Z.

She didn’t even know his name, she realized, feeling as if the storm had already started. No, she needed to get out of here before she made a fool of herself.

“I think it’s time for me to leave,” she managed to say.

His head tilted. “I didn’t design my bedroom to make a woman sad, kitten. Or to make her want to run.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. It’s just… It’s been a long night.” Her chest hurt so bad she wanted to press her hands to it. “I’m going home now.”

“No. You’re not.”

She blinked. “You can’t --”

His mouth curved in a faint smile. “No, I won’t push you down on the bed and have my way with you, tempting as I find the thought.”

The image sent heat pouring through her veins.

“But I also won’t let you leave while you’re still under the influence. I wouldn’t have given you any alcohol at all if I hadn’t thought you’d be spending the night.”

“Oh.” Well, she probably had drunk more than she should have. But damned if she’d stay here with him. “I’ll drive slowly.”

His eyes darkened, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “I’ll chain you to a wall in the dungeon before I let you leave like this.”

The image actually made her dampen, and she closed her eyes. She couldn’t stay in his rooms. Or go back to the club and be in that sex-charged atmosphere. “Um. Maybe I’ll just go for a nice walk.”

He shook his head with a hint of exasperation, then held out his hand. “Come, pet, I have a better idea.”

She hesitated.

“No sex involved.”

Why did his easy compliance feel so disappointing? “Okay.” His hand engulfed hers, warm and hard, and just touching him made her want him more. Oh, this had to stop.

He grabbed a bottled water from the refrigerator, then led her to the back door, and down the steps to the backyard.

She frowned. “This isn’t the same area we were in before, is it?”

“That was the side yard; this is the back. This area is only for my use.” He tilted her chin up, kissed her. “It’s very private.”

God, he could kiss. By the time he pulled back, her arms were wrapped around his neck, and she was pressed against him all over. She felt so good in his arms -- warm, safe…stupid. She shoved him away and took a step back, trying to control her breathing. “No sex?”

He chuckled. “I don’t consider kissing to be sex.”

“Kissing is sex.” She glared at him. If kissing wasn’t sex, she wouldn’t feel so turned on.