“Been whipped?”
“No.”
“Held the whip?”
His mouth quirked up. “As believable as you would be as a dominatrix, no. Have you ever been a part of the scene?”
She took a deep breath. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never found the right incentive.” She lifted a shoulder. “Not that I haven’t given a show or two. Just not on the stage.”
“Hmm.” His consideration was punctuated by the ecstatic cries of the woman. The noise filled something inside of Akira.
Depraved.The word was often tossed her way, and though she scoffed at it in public, internally she knew they were right.
Her life would be so much easier if she were different. If only she were the quiet, biddable female her mother had craved. If she were the silent, malleable doll her father had attempted to browbeat her into.
Sweat gathered at her hairline, the smell of sex and the heat generated by multiple bodies suddenly overwhelming her. She needed air. “Excuse me,” she choked out. “I have some hostess duties calling my name.”
He straightened. “Right now?”
“Mm-hmm. Feel free to stay.” She slipped out of his grasp, his fingers snagging on her hair as she bolted. She didn’t stop to savor that bite of pain.
She should have known he wouldn’t listen. His heavy footsteps sounded a few seconds behind her in the deserted hallway. “Akira.”
Perversely, she hated how quiet his voice was. Nothing rattled him, did it? He had to be perfect at everything.
Including being perfect for you.
Terror shot through her. No. Nobody was perfect for her. Certainly not Jacob.
If only you could be the woman for him.
She whirled around to confront him, her skirt flaring with the movement. “Why aren’t you done yet?”
His brow furrowed. She had to keep her gaze on his face because it was too tempting to glance down and stare at his chest, which was exposed by the sloppily fastened buttons of his shirt.
“Done with what?”
Done with me.“Done trying to prove to me that you can play in my league, Campbell.”
“Akira…”
“No. Don’t you do that. Don’t you say my name like that.” She took a step closer. “Finish this. Drop the other shoe. Call me whatever names you want and get out.” He would leave eventually, right? Better it be now. He didn’t belong here. He couldn’t be one of her regulars, her friend.
How would she be able to get enough of him if she could see him whenever she commissioned those elegant black invitations? She had been obsessed with him for years, and that was when she had been certain he hated her. If he came whenever she called, literally…
She would never be safe. Control would be gone, forever, because she would be in a continuous state of losing her head over him.
His mouth dropped open. “I would never call you…”
She made a sharp motion with her hand, cutting him off. “Go away. Go anywhere. I need a drink.”
She swiveled and marched away from him, back through the main salon. The vibe had changed in here, as it always did when the night wore on. Skin flashed. Tongues tangled. Hands groped. Carnality replaced flirtation and lust reigned supreme.
Akira was so inexplicably mad, she couldn’t even savor it.
