I’m not a slave. That wasn’t the relationship she’d dreamed of—to kneel at a man’s feet, to take his orders, to serve him. She hauled in a shuddering breath. I don’t belong here. Not really.

She needed to not pine after something that would never work. They’d be friends like she said.

After she finished moving her stuff, she went back downstairs. Master R—Raoul, dammit—was still in the kitchen, making notes on a legal pad. Why did he have to be so…so wonderful? The broad shoulders, the strong hands, the stern jaw. Why wasn’t life fair?

He looked up, and his smile faded as he got a I-can-see-right-down-to-your-secrets expression on his face. “Gatita, what is wrong?”

She shrugged. “Leftover nerves, I think.” She rubbed at a smear on the floor with her shoe and asked casually, “Do we have any plans for this week?”

“Only one. To keep you safe until you go home.”

Go home. How strange he’d mention that after she’d been thinking about it. Go home to what?

“For today, I thought we’d celebrate surviving our evening with the Overseer. I keep a sailboat at a marina nearby, and we can pick up a picnic lunch.”

Be on the water again and be with Master R? Could anything be better? “Oh, yes. Please.”

“Good enough. After I change, we’ll head out. Meantime, can you get my toy bag out of the car?” He tossed his keys to her. “I don’t like driving around with it…just in case of an accident or police. The car’s parked in front.”

She managed to stifle the yes, Master and said, “Sure, I’ll get it.” Why hadn’t he parked in the garage last night? Because he’d had to carry her upstairs. Duh. And the garage was on the opposite side of the house.

As she crossed the great room, Master R started up the stairs.

She stopped. Wait. Go outside? By myself? “Um. I’ll… I’m not sure I know what your bag looks like.” Her chest felt as if someone was wrapping ropes around her ribs and kept drawing them tighter.

He leaned one hip against the stair railing. “It’s the only bag in the car.”

“But—”

“Get the bag, gatita.”

She didn’t move.

His eyes narrowed, and then he came back down the stairs.

She relaxed. “You’re going to escort me to your car?”

“No, I don’t think so.” His hand closed around her upper arm. He led her to the front and pushed her out the door.

She stood, stunned at his actions. Stood and stared down the curving drive. She could see the street—the street where anyone might wait. Where someone could shoot her and hurt her and cage her. “No!” No no no. She spun around and plowed into an immovable body.

He blocked the doorway, the light framing him, a dark angel. “Kimberly.”

“No. No, I won’t.” She was trembling so violently that her knees buckled.

His arms closed around her, and he held her firmly. “Take a slow breath, gatita. Now.”

She was cold, so cold. That was why she was shaking. Her fingers had even gone numb.

“Another breath. Let it out slowly.” He made her take a few more.

Her heart slowed. And she realized she’d just had another damned panic attack for whatever reason.

“Now look at me.”

The order couldn’t be refused. She lifted her gaze to his intense dark brown eyes. His expression seemed strange. Concern and anger and…pity?

How the hell dare he pity me? She straightened in his arms and took a terrifying step away. “I’m just stressed from yesterday. Sorry.”

“Then perhaps you should try again?”

No!

But he held his hand out, and she set her fingers in his.

He walked to the car, and she was all right. Yes, she was fine.

He released her hand. “Stay here for a moment, gatita.”

When he started toward the house, somehow she was beside him, so close she was almost crawling into his clothes.

“Hmm.” Without speaking further, he led her through the house, out the back onto the patio. He stopped by the pool, watching her closely. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to figure out why she was still shaking and why she couldn’t go outside. She’d been outside before.

He pointed to the beach ball on the other side of the pool. “Bring me that.” No problem. She’d only gone halfway when he called her back.

“You’re afraid of being outside—on the street side—by yourself?”

“I-I—” She pulled in a breath of salt air, turned away from him. The waves rolled onto the shore; clouds puffed high in the sky. Normal world. Abnormal Kim. Her voice came out so tiny, he leaned forward to hear her. “When I went out to the front, I just knew they were there. They’d take me back. It’s not safe outside.” Everything inside told her that was truth.

“The patio is all right though? And the beach?” he asked softly, still holding her hand.

“I…guess so. It’s got a fence. An ocean. No vehicles. They can’t get me there.” She blew a lock of hair away from her face. “It sounds stupid.”

“Kimberly, where did they kidnap you?”

She remembered all too well. Every month, she’d drive from Savannah to Atlanta to spend the day with her mom. Then she’d spend the evening at the BDSM club. The highlight of her month. “Outside a club. When I reached for the handle of my car, I—I… The man Tasered me.” Horrible pain, every muscle spasming, convulsing, screaming silently in agony. “They tossed me into a van.”

He stroked her hair. “Now you figured out why you panic, does it help?”

“A little.” Yet the thought of walking out a door again made her whole body tense in dread. She straightened her spine. “Try again?”

“Brave gatita.” Hand on her arm, he led her to the front door as if she were a blind woman. “Let’s see how far you can get.”

She forced her feet to step outside. A long drive. The street. Something squeezed her chest, and black wavered like ghosts around the edges of her vision.

“Kimberly!” The command in his voice was as effective as a vicious slap.

She jolted and looked over her shoulder.

“I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to you.” Fury came from him in waves, but it wasn’t directed at her. “Take three steps. Then we’ll go back in the house. Can you do that?”

She shook her head. Too far.

“Kimberly.” He met her eyes, raised his chin. “Do it—for me.”

For Master R. Her need to please warred with the fear. She eyed all the open space where she’d be exposed, the places someone could hide, and something tiny inside her quailed. Yet she took a step. Another. Her courage failed. She could only stand and shake.

“One more, gatita.”

Her air was gone, and red streaked the lawn as she pushed a foot forward. One more.

“Good. Eyes on me.” He was in front of her so quickly, she realized he’d been right behind her for each step. His face blocked the dangerous open lawn. “I’m very proud of you, Kimberly.”

His praise released the last few bands around her chest, and she hauled in a breath.

“Next time you’ll go four steps. In the meantime”—he held his hand out for hers—“we’ll get my toy bag out of the car. Together.”

* * * *

Three days of being friends wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. With a silent sigh, Kim watched the morning sun move across the bedroom carpet, her hand over the wide palm cupping her breast. Contentment was being held in Master R’s arms.

But…she wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t crawled into his bed in the middle of the night.

He’d made love to her. She grinned. She’d kinda started the process when she’d sneaked under the covers, run her hands up his thighs, and fondled his cock to hardness. At first, she’d thought he was asleep, but after a few minutes, she realized he’d been awake all along, waiting to discover how far she’d go.

Far . Giggling, she’d climbed on top of him, and it had been fun. He’d kissed her and stroked her. Sucked her nipples. But he hadn’t taken control, hadn’t demanded anything from her. His hands had been gentle, not firm. They’d both gotten off, but… She sighed. The sex hadn’t been exciting at all. Kind of like piloting a motorboat instead of sailing in a strong wind. You’d get to your destination with the one; the other was sheer exhilaration.

I want that kind of sex back.

Master R was still asleep, one arm over her, spooned around her from behind. His morning erection pressed against her bottom. So…

They could have boring, we’re-just-friends sex, but she wanted more. How far could a girl push a master before he lost his temper?

He didn’t get angry easily. She bit her lip, unease quivering her nerves, and then rolled out of his arms. “No!” she snapped as his eyes opened. “No sex. You can’t make me, and I don’t want it.”

When his darkly tanned face turned stern, her stomach spawned wiggly minnows. But then he relaxed. “No, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want, Kimberly.” He put his hands behind his head, although his muscles were tight. “Go shower. I’ll stay out of your way.”