She exhaled, relief written all over her face. “I’ve seen second and third. What came in first?”
“The schoolroom, which explains all the pigtails and pleated skirts tonight.”
Emily stood motionless, eyes fixed on the hypnotic rise and fall of the lash. Alec watched her absorbing every detail. So was he, filing it away for later, when he could use what stirred her most.
He tugged her hand and attempted to move to the next window, but the crush of bodies all jockeying for a better view made it impossible to get closer.
“Dev’s going to need a damn reservation system,” he grumbled. “Every room and station has a line out the door.”
“That’s okay,” Emily quickly assured him. “Even if I don’t try anything tonight, this has been… educational.”
He dipped his head close, lips grazing her ear. “Nope. This will be a hands-on lesson. BDSM is a contact sport—minus a few niche kinks. And doms,” he added low, “can be very creative.”
She didn’t respond, but he felt the shift in her body—the subtle lean toward him, the breath she held. She wanted this. She just didn’t know how to admit it yet.
When he steered her clear of the packed hallway, the blast of A/C hit them—cool relief after the heat of so many bodies. Emily shivered, instinctively edging closer, and he guided her toward the quieter lounge.
What was actually Dev and Cari’s den was used for overflow and when pop-up showers, common on humid evenings, drove the patio dwellers inside. It had a wet bar, scattered couches, and a massive wall-mounted screen, but Alec led her past all of it toward the far end, up two narrow steps to the small stage.
“We use this for demonstrations sometimes,” he explained.
He reached for the dimmer switch, lowering the recessed lights until only moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind them. Soft. Private. Enough light for him to see her, and enough shadow that she wouldn’t feel on display. It was too early for that.
Alec moved a leather wing chair onto the stage, angling it away from the ceiling vent so she wouldn’t get chilled. Then he sat—legs spread, posture relaxed but commanding—and patted his thighs.
When she only stared at him, he leaned forward, clasped her wrist, and tugged her gently onto his lap—exactly where he wanted her.
“You couldn’t see much in that crowd,” he said, voice low. “But something turned you on. Something in those rooms.” His hand slid up her throat to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair to tilt her face up to his.
“Playing doctor wasn’t your thing,” he murmured, lips brushing her throat where her pulse fluttered. “But something made your heart race and those cheeks pink, Tell me one of your darkest fantasies.”
“I couldn’t,” she whispered.
“Of course, you can. It’s me. You’ve known me forever.”
“That makes it even more embarrassing.”
His thumb stroked her jaw. “Shyness fades with experience. And I’ll go slow.”
She shifted on his lap, tension rippling through her. He parted his thighs, and her legs opened with them. His hand slipped beneath her skirt and up her inner thigh until it met the damp silk covering her.
“You’re drenched,” Alec murmured, his fingers gliding over the fabric. “Something made you this way.”
She still said nothing.
He clucked his tongue, hooked the fabric aside, and slid his fingers through her heat. “If you won’t tell me, stubborn girl. I’ll have to find out for myself by process of elimination.”
A squeak escaped her throat, sharp and telling. Words were irrelevant; her body was speaking fluently. The molten wetness against his fingers was all the confession he needed.
“We’re doing this here?” she gasped.
“Dev’s new rooms are a circus. No one’s near this lounge,” he assured her. “It’s just us, Em.” With his free hand, he brushed her cheek with his knuckles, light but commanding. “If visibility bothers you, close your eyes.”
She hesitated—but only for a heartbeat. Then she obeyed, lashes lowering, her world narrowing to his voice and touch.
“Keep them shut,” he murmured. “Until I say otherwise.”
She nodded, her breathing shallow.
