“Shh,” he soothed.
Grant interrupted, saving Jace from having to reveal who he was by speaking. “He’s just going to get you changed. He won’t step over any lines because you aren’t his, you understand?”
Her shoulders dipped and she nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little freaked out.”
“How come?” Grant asked, putting his feet on the floor and sitting forward, his gaze no doubt taking in every nuance of Brynn’s demeanor. “Your file says that you’ve had a previous D/s relationship. Is it fear of not knowing who your partner is going to be?”
She gave a stiff shrug, and her lip began to tremble.
Oh, hell. Was she going to cry? Jace didn’t know if he’d be able to keep his cover if she crumbled in front of him. A crying chick was his kryptonite. He pitched his voice lower and risked speaking. “You okay?”
She sniffed and pulled her shoulders back, apparently fighting to keep her composure. “I’m fine. I just haven’t been able to give over control to anyone for a long time. You can start getting me ready. I won’t stop you.”
He nodded, even though he knew she couldn’t see him. His fingers trailed down her arm and then pressed the release on her cuffs. She rolled and stretched her wrists, while he moved his hands up to her neckline. He started unfastening her blouse, while Grant continued his questioning. “Why do you think you’ve resisted giving over control?”
Jace reached the end of the buttons and slid her shirt off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Goose bumps rose on her ivory skin and she shivered. He rubbed her bare arms with his palms, trying to chase the chill for her.
She wet her lips. “I don’t know.”
There was a long pause, and Jace could tell Grant was measuring her every word.
“That’s not true,” Grant said finally, his tone as smooth as silk. “You’re holding something back.”
Shit. Jace shot a warning glance over his shoulder. What had happened to going easy on her? But it was too late. Grant had that look in his eye—the one that said he’d switched into master mode.
“Tell us the real reason, Brynn.”
She began to quiver beneath Jace’s hold on her.
“I… I was raped.”
His hands stilled against her. “What?”
She shook her head. “It was a long time ago. I really don’t want to talk about it. But that’s why I’m here. I want to get past the fear.”
Jesus. That was the personal reason she’d alluded to in his office? So many questions rose in his throat—who, when, and did Reid know? He’d bet his left nut Reid had no idea. Otherwise, his friend would be in jail for killing the fucker who’d hurt her. Shit. No wonder she was shaking like a frightened puppy.
Grant rose from the couch and came to stand in front of Brynn, his normally unreadable face full of concern. “Do you want me to tell my members what you’re dealing with so they can take that into account?”
She wagged her head. “No, please don’t tell anyone. I can’t even believe I told you. I just want to blend in. No special treatment. And please,” she said, her voice edging on desperate, “Master J, keep going.”
Jace bent to slip off her heels, his mind still reeling, and Grant reached out and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. He leaned forward a bit as if he was making eye contact with her despite her blindfold. “Brynn, you’re extremely brave to come here and do this. But you need to be careful. I’m as concerned about the mental well-being of my customers as their physical safety. I don’t want you to push yourself too far. You understand?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding tiny in comparison to Grant’s firm tone.
Grant continued, “If at any time you need out, a break, whatever, you use that safe word. There is no shame in exercising that right.”
She nodded, straightening under his touch. “Thank you. But I’ve given this a lot of thought. I want to do this. I need this.”
“Well, then I hope we can provide you with what you’re seeking. I’m going to let Master J finish getting you ready, but if you need anything while you’re here, don’t hesitate to ask me.”
“Thank you.”
Grant stepped away and slipped out of the room, nodding at Jace as he left.
Jace eased her pants down her legs, then ran a palm along her calf to indicate she should step out of them. Once he gathered all her things from the floor, he rose and took in the view.
God, she was a gorgeous girl. Even though years had passed, she looked as sexy as she had that first night he’d seen her strip for Reid in his driveway—all curves and soft femininity, her creamy skin standing out in contrast to her black satin bra and panties. But who knew under all that softness was a woman tough enough to suffer a rape, then come to a place like this to try to heal herself. He shook his head in awe.