She straightened her shoulders. “In that case, I’m good with Master Greene apologizing.”

“That’s what I told him, but I also said I wanted to check with you first.”

She nodded, but then her gaze grew distant and she looked over his shoulder.

“Everything okay?” he asked. “Are you having second thoughts?”

She slowly returned her focus to him. “No, I’m just thinking about Peter. Now that I can think about him and not risk an episode, I often find myself wondering if I missed something, some sign.”

“I understand why you’d do that, but your time would be better spent asking yourself what qualities you’re looking for in a Dom.” He reached into his pocket and took a twenty-dollar bill out. “Do you know how they train people to recognize counterfeit money?”

Her forehead wrinkled and she frowned in puzzlement. “Sir?”

He passed her the twenty. “They don’t give them the counterfeit bills to study. They only touch and hold the real thing. They become so accustomed to the real money that they immediately recognize the fraud.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say, Sir.”

“Focus on what you want from a Dom, how you want him to treat you. Think through the characteristics of a Dom you’d like to play with. That way when you meet someone and you get to know him, you’ll recognize if he’s a fraud or not.”

She nodded.

“To make sure you understand, I want you to make a list of your top ten requirements from a Dom. We’ll go over it next time we meet.”

Her gaze grew wistful again, but she smiled and replied with a soft, “Yes, Sir.”

•   •   •

That Friday night Sasha stood in her bedroom looking at the box that had been delivered earlier in the day. The accompanying note forbade her to peek until she was getting ready for the party. Since Cole would be at her apartment in twenty minutes to pick her up, she decided it was time.

She took a deep breath and lifted the lid. He’d told her it wouldn’t be black lingerie, and she was excited to see what he picked out. How did he like to see his submissives dress?

She pushed the white tissue to the side and held up a pair of short black shorts. Judging by the cut, they would fit skintight. Though really, what did it matter? She wouldn’t be wearing underwear anyway.

Next she pulled out a sheer pair of black hose with a seam up the leg and nodded her approval. Nice. She’d always admired the way they looked on women. The black shirt he’d selected would cover her back completely. Which was more than she could say about the front.

Standing before the mirror, five minutes later, with hose and shorts on, she tried in vain to pull the plunging neckline up. But no matter how she pulled or rearranged, she wasn’t able to cover more skin. With a sigh, she dropped her hands to her sides and studied her reflection. Maybe if she moved carefully she could keep a nipple from popping out.

She checked the time and slipped on the heels he’d also picked out seconds before she heard him coming up the stairs. When she opened the door to his knock, she found him standing in her doorway wearing black jeans and a T-shirt. She moved aside to let him enter, but he simply stood and studied her.

“The outfit looks fantastic on you,” he said. “I reckon every man at the party is going to picture himself having a go at you. But every man there also knows he isn’t allowed to touch you. The combination will drive them crazy.”

Funny how a year ago, she’d have delighted in his words. At the moment, however, all she wanted to know was if he wanted her.

He nodded in her direction. “Step just inside the door and kneel for me.”

She took a step and dropped to her knees, hoping she didn’t tear or put a run in her hose. He followed her inside and closed the door behind him.

“I require higher protocol service at the party,” he said, coming to a stop before her. “You will not speak unless I give permission. If I’m sitting, you’re to kneel at my feet. You will address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Master Johnson.’ Any questions?”

Her pulse quickened at this side of him—the demanding Dom side of him. She was surprised at how much it turned her on. “I have no questions, Sir.”

“I’ve been known to mark my property before going to a party. Use her mouth for a quick fuck, pull out, and come on her chest. If you were my slave, would you proudly wear such a blatant display of my ownership?”

Part of her wanted to deny it, say it was too crass, too much. But he’d demanded honesty, and the truth was she wanted him to be so intentional about his claim on her that he marked her in such a primitive way.

“Yes, Sir. I would,” she confessed. Her head was down, so she couldn’t see him, but she heard his sharp intake of breath.

“Bloody hell, Sasha. You have me thinking things I have no right thinking.” He took several more deep breaths before continuing. “We need to get in the car before I do something I’ll regret.”

His frankness caught her off guard even as something inside her delighted she could evoke such a response from him.

“Now, Sasha.”

She hurried to her feet.

“Where’s your coat?”

She pointed. “In the closet, there, Sir.”

He didn’t say a word as he opened her closet, took her coat, and held it out for her. She slipped her arms in it, but the entire time she felt his coldness toward her. For a second, she questioned her reply and wondered if she should apologize.

Fuck it, she thought. He’s the one who wanted honesty.

She held her head up and reached to open the door, but he pushed his hand against it and stopped her.

“I’m not upset with you, Sasha.”

“Sir?”

“I’m angry at myself. It’s not your fault, and it’s nothing you’ve done.” He exhaled loudly. “I’m used to having better control over myself.”

“Thank you for being honest with me, Sir.” How refreshing it was to be with someone who was so honest and open. With anyone else, she’d have been subjected to an uncomfortable and awkward car ride.

His body relaxed slightly. “You do look incredible in that outfit. If I hadn’t—” He shook his head. “But I did, so let’s head out so we’re not late.”