“Yes.”

She couldn’t tell him she was sorry, because that would be a lie and she didn’t want to lie to Jeff. “Were you going to tell me good-bye?” she whispered over the lump in her throat instead.

Something she couldn’t make out lurked behind his expression. “Of course I was.”

After breakfast, they took his truck first to Daniel’s to pick up her car and then to her apartment to get her things. Jeff stayed with her while she packed, but he was quiet. The tension between them was back. Whatever tiny bit of frivolity they had managed to find had fled when he’d told her he was moving.

By midafternoon she’d made herself as comfortable as possible in Jeff’s guest room. She’d brought over enough clothes for two weeks and all her active client files. Bentley, not pleased with the sudden upheaval, had taken up residence under Jeff’s bed.

“Probably pissed about that name,” Jeff had said in a rare moment of teasing. “Who names a cat Bentley?”

“This from the man with dogs named Ace and Bo. Bo? Would a little bit of originality kill you?”

He’d shrugged. “He looked like a Bo.”

She spent the rest of the day reviewing work files in a corner of his living room. She’d noticed the small desk shortly after breakfast and had quickly claimed it. Without Jeff to remind her, she probably would have worked through dinner, but the enticing smells coming from the kitchen dragged her from her files.

After dinner she was back at it. Time flew by, and she didn’t realize how late it was until Jeff quietly placed a glass of chocolate milk on the edge of the desk. Her heart clenched. So many people saw him as quiet and standoffish, but she knew the man under the gruff exterior.

Who would know him in Colorado?

“Thank you, Sir,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I had some.”

“You’re welcome. I want … I want to make this as easy on you as possible.”

“I appreciate that.” She glanced down at her calendar and frowned. “Oh, I meant to tell you—I have a session with Daniel and Ron tomorrow afternoon.”

Daniel was mentoring a new Dominant, and he’d asked her to help. As the most experienced submissive in the group, she was often asked to participate in training scenes.

“Why the frown?” he asked.

Dena sighed and ran a hand through her blond waves. “Ron keeps asking me to play outside of the mentoring sessions. I’ve turned him down I don’t know how many times, but he keeps asking.”

Jeff crossed his arms. Since he was being mentored by Daniel, Ron was able to play with submissives in the group, but it was surprising he kept asking one who’d repeatedly turned him down. “Do you want me to say something to him?”

“No. I can take care of it. Maybe he’ll eventually get the picture.”

“Or you could tell him you’re not interested in being in a scene with him ever.” He nodded as if he’d decided something. “I’ll be going with you tomorrow.”

She almost told him that wouldn’t be necessary, but the look on his face and the determination in his eyes persuaded her not to. Accepting that this was how it was going to be for the foreseeable future, she simply nodded.

“I’ve been working on how to approach finding out who’s been harassing you. I need a list of all the cases you’ve prosecuted, or at least the people involved. We’ll start with that. How soon can you get it to me?” Jeff asked.

“I’ll have it for you tomorrow,” she said.

It was all sorts of odd with Jeff watching the training session the next day. But she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. There was no sex involved with the scene. Daniel was just teaching Ron a flogger technique. And she was naked, but Jeff had seen her naked plenty of times.

Maybe that was it, she decided as they drove back to his house. She was naked before him, but not naked for him.

“Daniel has his work cut out for him with that one,” Jeff said, pulling the truck into the driveway of his house.

Dena shot her gaze his way, as these were the first words he’d spoken on the entire trip home. “Really? Why do you think that?” She had never noticed anything off about Ron before.

“There’s just something in his demeanor.”

“I didn’t notice anything with his technique.”

He pressed his lips together. “I noticed.”

He’d stopped the truck and they got out. Probably he’d noticed because he was jealous. Or that’s what she told herself. She watched as he opened the side door and let her in, enjoying the way his muscles flexed under his shirt. Not for the first time that day, she wished it’d been Jeff holding the flogger.

Because of the way the evening turned out at the play party, they’d never had their flogging scene. Of course, all it took was imagining Jeff holding a flogger to ensure she didn’t think about anything else. Eating dinner, she’d watch his hands flex and imagine those hands on her. The movement of his biceps had her thinking of how he’d work a flogger.

Fuck, she wanted him.

So much for rules, expectations, and lines.

“Everything okay?” he asked the second time she almost dropped a dish she was drying after he washed it.

“Sorry; just thinking.” And watching his lips. How full they were.

He took a step toward her, and he was watching her lips, too. “About what?”

Your lips on my body. Your hands bringing me to the edge. “Nothing.”

“Liar.” Another step closer. He put the dish down and dried his hands. “Tell me.”

He was invading her space. And she loved it. She lifted her chin. “No.”

“Yes.” He was so close, she felt the warmth of his body. Any closer and he’d be touching her. They locked eyes. Time stilled.

She licked her lips. “You owe me a flogging.”

“You want me to flog you?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t that go against your rules?”

“Screw ’em.”

He crossed his arms. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

Well, damn. But she’d take what she could get. “Fine.”

He studied her for several long seconds before finally saying, “Playroom in ten minutes.”

Chapter Eight

Three years ago