“Yes, but—” Ron started.

“If you argue with me or disrespect a submissive again, you will be removed from the mentee program. Now apologize to Dena.”

He paused a bit too long for Jeff’s liking. “Now.”

“Sorry, Dena,” Ron said. There may have been concession in his voice, but there wasn’t a trace of remorse.

“It’s okay,” Dena replied.

“It sure as hell is not okay.” Jeff still didn’t like the look on Ron’s face or the halfhearted manner of his apology. If that made him a Neanderthal, so be it. “Dena, let’s leave.”

She gave Julie and Abby hugs, promised to call soon to set up a lunch date, and rose to her feet. “I arrived early, Master Parks. I’ll have to see if I can get my car out.”

Jeff kept his eyes on Ron as the younger man stalked off. “Leave it here. We’ll take my truck.”

They bade everyone a hasty farewell and then stopped back by Kelly’s office to get Dena’s coat.

“You really didn’t have a chance to talk to Nathaniel,” she said as they made their way outside. “I think they’re going to have dinner with Daniel and Julie. I could change and we could join them.”

“I’ll call him later,” he said, opening the door for her to get into the truck. “And no way. We’re spending the evening alone.”

She didn’t say anything, but she looked pleased they weren’t joining the other couples for dinner. Jeff pulled onto the street. “Mind if we go to your place? Mine’s still a mess.”

“Sure. Did you bring your bag?”

“Overnight bag or toy bag?”

“Either one. Both.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t really answer my question.”

He grinned in the dark. “I know.”

She mumbled something under her breath but didn’t say anything else. As he drove away from Kelly’s house, he felt the tension of the night ease. No matter what happened at the party, he was with Dena and they were headed to the privacy of her home.

Because it’d been a while since she’d been at her apartment, Jeff insisted on looking over everything. Nothing appeared out of order, and there was no new note waiting.

When they made it inside, Dena hung up her coat.

“You need to put on a robe or something,” he said, looking over her outfit. “I want to talk for a bit, and it’ll be damn near impossible with you wearing that.”

She kicked her heels off. “If you insist.”

“I’ll pour us some wine,” he said, walking toward the kitchen while she disappeared into the bedroom. He didn’t know his way around Dena’s apartment since she’d rented it after they broke up, but he knew she had excellent taste in wine. Though he preferred a good craft beer, he had grown to appreciate some of her recommended vintages.

“Help yourself,” she called from the bedroom.

He opened the refrigerator, deciding he’d open a white wine, and found a four-pack of his favorite local brew sitting on the shelf.

“You’re a dream come true,” he said, taking out a bottle for him and a Riesling for her. “Has anyone ever told you that before?”

“Once or twice.”

He turned to find her standing in the doorway. She’d slipped a robe on that somehow matched what he knew lay underneath. Her feet were bare, and she’d rearranged her hair so it was swept to one side, the curls spilling over her shoulder.

“You want to talk?” she asked.

No, not really. Not with her looking like she did. But he knew they needed to. “I have to hear about you being a Domme.”

Her laugh was soft and seductive as she took the offered glass of wine and led him into the living room. She sat on the couch and patted the seat beside her. “Yesterday I went and had a little chat with my dad.”

He took the offered spot. He sat just close enough to feel her presence without actually touching her. “How is Senator Jenkins doing?”

He listened as she recalled her visit and her threats. When she got to the part about lying, he gave a low whistle. “You would actually do that?”

“Without thinking twice. Would it actually work?” She shrugged. “Who knows? He thought it would, and that’s all that really matters.”

He took her hand. “I shouldn’t have kept his threats secret. At the time, I thought I was protecting you. I see now it implied you weren’t strong enough to handle it.”

She set her wineglass down and shifted to face him. With her free hand she brushed the hair from his forehead. “In a way, I’m glad it happened like it did. I don’t know if I’d have had the confidence to confront him all those years ago.”

“You had it.”

“You always have thought I was capable of doing more than I thought I could.”

He leaned closer; she still smelled like flowers. “I just see you more clearly than you see yourself.”

“And who do you see now?”

“A beautiful, strong, courageous woman. Who would have made a kick-ass Domme.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to do?”

He let go of her hand so he could stroke her cheek. “I’m going to start by kissing her.”

With a patience he didn’t know he possessed, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Though he was tempted to rush things along, he’d been wanting this moment for days and wasn’t going to hurry through it.

She sank into his embrace as though she’d never left, lifting her head and meeting his kiss with one of her own. His lips traced the curve of her jaw, and he allowed his hand to slip under her robe and caress her shoulder.

Moving as slowly as possible, he drew the robe down to expose her collarbone to his lips. He nibbled along, following the path that led to the hollow of her throat, and he smiled in satisfaction. “Your heart is racing.”

“You’re killing me.”

“Good.” He gave her shoulder a small bite, and she rewarded him with a groan.

“Isn’t this when you go get your bags?”

“No,” he said, starting at the other shoulder and following the same path.

“No?”

“No,” he repeated. “If I go get my bags, I’ll be tempted to rush. This way”—he slipped the robe off her shoulders completely—“I’ll be sure to take my time.”