Prologue
The air smelled of wood smoke and charred meat from the outdoor grill just off the patio. Beneath it lingered the faint hint of sulfur and the promise of fireworks. Couples and small groups had claimed their patches of ground, blankets spread, low conversations drifting with that anticipatory hum of excitement before something begins.
Giggles to her right caught Julia’s attention. When she looked, a skimpy top sailed across the yard.
Things were turning amorous. No big surprise. Devil’s Pointe’s playground was romantic under the moonlight, and some club members were already leaning into it.
Not her, though.
She was alone, with no prospects for the night. There was only one dom she wanted anyway, and he wasn’t an option. Not for her or for anyone. He’d made that clear from the start.
Julia took a distracted sip of her wine and grimaced. Her chardonnay matched the air temperature—warm and awful. She emptied it into the grass where the stone path met the lawn then resumed crowd-watching.
She’d spent the past two weeks constructing shields around her heart. She thought they were solid. Believed it, mostly. Until something changed behind her.
Not sound or footsteps but a distinct shift in the air.
Recognition washed over her, and her stomach fluttered with nerves. She’d felt it twice before, but she didn’t move, giving him the chance to approach first.
“Are you waiting for someone?” His deep voice rumbled from her left, raising goose bumps on her arms.
You. Always you, she thought before turning to face him.
Leland Hale stood nearby, close enough to signal intent, far enough that the choice was hers. He wore black, his collar open at the throat, a hint of ink visible on his chest. His eyes were what she noticed first: pale gray, still as standing water, but taking in everything. When they settled on her, heat coiled in her belly.
He observed her with the same deliberate attention he gave everything. A man who did nothing by accident.
“No, Master Leland.” Her voice came out surprisingly steady, sparking a quick rush of pride. “I’m on my own tonight.”
His mouth twitched at the corners. Not quite a smile, more like the idea of one. He extended his hand, palm up. An invitation, not a command.
“Then we should watch the fireworks together.”
He led her away from the patio lights, guiding her around the people already settled in. They found a less crowded spot at the edge of the yard, near the tree line. Overhead, the first shell burst open, releasing a shower of trailing orange sparks. Gold sizzled next followed by a cascade of blue that held for a breath before it fell. The percussion followed a split-second later.
He stood solid behind her, not touching except for the occasional brush of his chest against her back, but she was acutely conscious of his nearness. She’d been with him twice before, including once here on the playground. He’d suspended her from the lowest branch of a nearby tree, and she’d slowly revolved on her tiptoes as he did decadent things to her body with his mouth and a soft suede flogger.
Beyond that, she knew the quality of his silence: focused, but never empty.
Two weeks ago, she had told herself firmly that she was not falling in love with him. Unfortunately, she’d lied.
Another volley rattled the riverbank. He absorbed it then leaned close, his breath brushing her ear. “The fireworks are impressive tonight,” he murmured. “Still not the most interesting thing here.”
She turned before she could stop herself. His face was right there, angled down toward hers. She could see the faint tan lines at the corners of his eyes, the shadow of his closely cropped hair, his gaze steady on her.
“Here?” Her voice barely carried.
He glanced once over the lawn. “It’s not as though anyone will notice.”
She looked, too. He wasn’t wrong. The others were intent on the sky, faces tilted upward, absorbed in the dazzling display.
He moved her closer, his fingers curving around the nape of her neck, possessive enough to make her pulse jump. Not gripping, only the lightest suggestion of positioning as his mouth drifted to the corner of hers and hovered a breath away.
“I need something from you first,” he said quietly.
She surfaced through the wanting and understood what he meant. Consent.
“You have it, Master Leland.”
