Page 55 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

His words wrap around me like velvet over steel, rich with approval that shouldn’t affect me but does, sending a treacherous flutter low in my abdomen.

“Tell us your understanding.” His voice is surprisingly gentle, coaxing even.

And suddenly I’m convinced that this version of Lucian is even more dangerous to me.

“A safe word is…” Oh God. I’d rather be anywhere having any other conversation.

Caleb brushes his fingers on the outside of my knee, a slow, mesmerizing stroke that sends sparks racing up my thigh. “Go on.”

Together, the two are impossible.

In the silence and flashing shadows, I look down and continue. “It’s a word or phrase agreed upon in advance that stops all play immediately. No questions, no hesitation. It’s for when something crosses a boundary—physical or emotional.”

Lucian nods. “Keep going.”

I go into my clinical mode, the one where I’m objectively analytical. “A lot of people use red for full stop and yellow for slow down. It signals withdrawal of consent.”

But with them, I’m anything but detached, even though I’m desperate to keep a wall between us.

I twist my hands in my lap, and Caleb traces my knuckles with his thumb.

His touch anchors me even as it heightens my awareness of the two of them as men.

I look at Lucian. “And what if I don’t want to play your little games at all?”

“You don’t have to.”

My shoulders relax in a way that makes me realize how much tension I’ve been holding in them. “I don’t have to?”

He grins, and it’s such an unusual occurrence that I gape at him.

“It’s our hope that you’ll want to participate in our lifestyle. But consent is just that. You will never be forced.”

His voice deepens on the last words, threading through me like warm silk. I can’t believe he’s offering a sliver of control back to me.

“We’re going to a club. We don’t have to participate, but it’s one thing to read about it, another to experience it.”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“You don’t have to.” He lifts a shoulder. “But I would think you would like to know something about the men you’re marrying.” For a moment, he lets his words hang. “You can consider it research.”

My pulse is pounding so hard in my head that I can’t hear myself think.

Ever since Piper talked about it and the club she loves visiting, I have been curious.

Before I’ve fully formed an answer, the driver navigates onto a quieter stretch of road near Buffalo Bayou.

“Are you up for this?”

We stop in front of a nondescript white building that appears like it might be a warehouse. “Is this it?” I’ve seen the building a hundred times before, and I had no idea it housed a BDSM club.

Moments later, we’re all out of the vehicle, and Lucian is cupping my elbow. “Ready?” he asks.

I look at the building again.

It’s a warehouse. How scary could it be?

Chapter Eighteen