“Don’t be condescending.”
“In here or in general? Might be difficult to promise either.” The smile fades a little. “Five minutes. I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t make me come and get you.”
But I’m downstairs in two.
Not because he ordered it.
But because I don’t need to do anything. No makeup touch-ups, no wardrobe changes. I’m good to go. Or at least, pretending to be.
I hit the bottom step and stop short.
Declan stands there, brow furrowed, studying something in his hand with such intensity he doesn’t seem to be breathing. For a moment he’s not the charming, easygoing Murphy brother. He’s something harder. Colder. Razor-edged.
Then he looks up, and just like that, he’s Declan again. Smile back in place. Dimple flashing. The shift is so seamless I almost miss him folding the piece of paper and sliding it into his pocket.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Shopping list,” he says smoothly. “Come on.”
“I don’t need a list. I told you I have dresses.”
He ignores me entirely and leads me to the waiting car.
We pull up in SoHo in front of Petz, an exclusive pet boutique that probably charges a kidney for designer kibble.
Of course Declan’s in his element.
He orders food—freeze-dried, raw, artisanal, whatever—for the cats and dogs. Special seed for Pepper. A new perch. And then he heads for the harnesses and collars and starts selecting those with way too much thought.
The basket starts to look like something a very well-funded Dom might keep in a toy chest.
My stomach flips.
“What exactly do you expect me to do with all that?” I ask, eyeing a black leather harness.
“They’re for the pets,” Declan says. “Clawzy needs a new collar. I’m going to try a harness again. Maybe Lola?—”
“I wouldn’t,” I say quickly. “Unless you’ve always wanted to experience lifewithout skin.”
He turns those aqua green eyes on me and my bones go soft. “An attempt at taming might be worth it,” he says lightly. “Depending.”
I don’t think he’s talking solely about the cat anymore.
I don’t ask. I’m not sure I want the answer.
He pays. The purchases get loaded into the car. I start to climb in, but he shakes his head.
“I’m taking you shopping, remember?”
We walk a few doors down to a beautiful modern stone building. It looks so elegant from the outside.
Inside, it looks like a fever dream of silicone and latex.
I’m hit in the face by rows of dildos, harnesses, latex outfits, whips, restraints. It’s like walking into the back of my subconscious and realizing all my dirtiest thoughts have a retail section.
The woman behind the counter is nearly as tall as Declan and drop-dead gorgeous with a body that doesn’t quit.
“Astra,” he says, smiling, “this is my lovely Molly. We’re going to get her some toys.”
