Bryn’s eyes snapped open and she forced her gaping mouth closed. She watched Vivian’s self-satisfaction as she sauntered toward the door.
Trying to return the moisture to her mouth, Bryn stood and followed her. “Well then you’ll have no problem listening,” she said, trying to recover her cool but it had burned away in Vivian’s molten atmosphere.
“Get some sleep, Bryn.” Vivian pulled the door open. “The conference is a sprint, not a marathon.”
“I’ll try and remember that,” she replied, still disoriented from the near-kiss. She leaned against the open door. “Thank you for checking on me.”
“I didn’t.” Vivian hesitated as if was debating whether to kiss her goodbye or just leave.
Bryn grinned, high on all the affection and care Vivian had shown her in her own Vivian way. “You’re a great actress.” She reached out, brushing away a nonexistent piece of lint off her bare shoulder. The brush of her skin, electric. “But a terrible liar,” she whispered before kissing Vivian on the cheek.
Vivian huffed in amusement. “Good night, Bryn.”
“Sweet dreams, Vivian,” she replied, watching Vivian until she made it to the elevator and hit the button.
When the elevator dinged, Vivian shot her a dark glance that sent another rush of aching heat coursing through Bryn’s body.
“Thanks again for checking on me,” Bryn called down the corridor.
“I didn’t,” Vivian lied, disappearing into the elevator and leaving Bryn breathless.
ChapterTwenty-One
Despite knowing better,Vivian was drunk and alone. She’d always been careful about mind-altering substances, but her concern had always been about darkness creeping in. About the isolation that bound her limbs and made the ceiling feel like the bottom of a grave.
But what she felt when she returned to her suite wasn’t suffocation. It was bright and effervescent and… freeing. Too freeing. The vodka made her reckless. Had severed her grip on self-control.
The sensation felt more dangerous than darkness while Vivian tore off her clothes without the usual care. When she stepped into the shower still wearing her jewelry and without removing her makeup. She just wanted to wash off the night.
Not the entire night. Not the part where she’d gone to Bryn’s room, although she’d like to forget what her eyes looked like when she’d been crying. She’d be happy never to see that again.
She stepped under the waterfall in the glass-encased shower and relished how it burned her scalp. How the mild discomfort grounded her. How it felt real when nothing else did.
Resistance lasted until she crawled under the heavy duvet naked, hair damp like she didn’t care that it would take twice as long to style in the morning. And she didn’t. Not right then. Not when she was reaching for her earbuds and opening Siren. Not when all she could think about was Bryn’s voice. Her insistence that Vivian listen.
So Vivian opened Kelly Craves’ profile, found the first Fdom audio, and listened to a track called “Kneel for Me.”
It started with the jarring sound of a heavy door clicking shut. And then, the rhythmic click of heels on a hardwood floor. The sound design was so crisp that Vivian instinctively held her breath, her heart hammering as if someone had actually walked into her hotel room.
Then, the voice.
“You’re late,” Kelly said.
It was Bryn, but it wasn’t. Her timbre was so low, but it wasn’t only that. It was stripped of all the warmth and vulnerability that permitted everything Bryn said. This voice was brass knuckles under a leather glove. It was arrogant and intoxicating.
Vivian squeezed her eyes shut, the darkness behind her lids spinning slightly from the vodka. A shiver, violent and electric, raced down her spine.
“I told you what would happen if you kept me waiting,” Kelly continued, her tone dropping into a dangerous whisper that seemed to curl around the shell of Vivian’s ear. To take her by the throat. “I told you that my patience isn’t something you can afford to test. Look at you. Standing there, nervous. You know you deserve what’s coming, don’t you?”
Vivian stopped breathing. For a fleeting, dizzying second, she liked it. She liked the idea of consequences. Of not having to decide. Liked the weight of authority pressing down on her chest, pushing out the air, narrowing her world until it was just Bryn’s voice. Until every syllable burned and she ached for more than just words.
“Get on your knees,” Kelly commanded. It wasn’t a request. “Eyes down. Don’t show me those gorgeous eyes until I tell you to.”
Vivian’s legs twitched under the duvet, desperate to obey.
“Tell me how badly you missed me—ah, ah, ah. No. Eyes down.”
Vivian swallowed hard and gripped the sheets with both hands.
