“Nervous? About what?”
“I don’t like confrontation,” she admits.
“Really? But you’re so good at it.”
She shakes her head. “We all do what we have to do, right? I’m good at confrontation, but I don’t enjoy it.”
“Nobody enjoys it.”
“Lawyers do,” she points out. “I should know. There’s enough of them here.”
“Maybe it’s just a Dom thing,” I suggest helpfully, and June laughs. Her laugh is full and rich and joyous, and it speaks to my very soul. If I could make her laugh like that again and again and again, I’d be a happy man.
“You know,” she says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “You might be on to something.” She’s bending forward now and her breasts are heaving with every breath. She has to know how fucking hot she is. She just has to. She has to know how much I want to slide my tongue over her cleavage, how much I want to pull each of her nipples into my mouth and just bite.
She has to know, but when she smiles at me, it’s with such an innocence that suddenly, I wonder if she might not know. Is there a chance that June doesn’t realize what a catch she is? Is there a chance she doesn’t realize just how lovely she is?
“So, I never got you a drink,” she says, nodding to the empty space in front of me. “Can I get you anything?” She asks. June holds up a pretty pink bracelet and waves it in front of me. “You have to wear a bracelet, though.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “How about a Coke?”
“Coke as in soda or Coke as in Coke?”
“Coke as in Coke,” I say, and she quickly makes me a drink. When she turns around, my eyes are glued to her pretty behind, and when she spins back around, she catches me staring.
“Oh, Ryder,” she sets the drink in front of me and then leans down. She motions for me to move forward, and I do. Then June’s lips brush across my ear as she whispers, “I’m still not going to call you sir.”
Chapter 3
June
Despite owning one of the hottest sex clubs around, my life is quite mundane and ordinary. I spend most of my day doing paperwork and researching new and interesting BDSM activities to try at the club. I’ve had a couple of requests for game nights. We already have theme nights a few times a month, so squeezing in a game night with different activities shouldn’t be too hard.
“Hey,” Ranger peeks his head in my office. “You have a minute?”
“Yeah,” I look up. “Are you doing an interview today?”
Ranger is my psychologist. More specifically, he’s the psychologist for Anchored. It’s his job to perform a psychological evaluation for each potential member before I let them walk through the doors on a club night. Kinky people I can handle. Crazy people? Not so much. It’s for my own safety and the safety of my patrons that I require everyone go through this screening process.
“I’ve got two scheduled.” He glances at the files he’s holding. “Katya Johnson and Ginger Spencer.”
“Those sound like fake names.”
He just shrugs. “I’ve heard faker.”
“You want some coffee before your appointments?”
“Always.”
He comes into my office and heads to the Keurig in the corner. Ranger takes his time selecting the perfect type of coffee, and once the cup is finished brewing, he comes back and sits across from me at my desk.
“How are you, June?”
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s going on, Ranger? You aren’t one to ask me about my feelings.”
“That’s because you love to keep them bottled up inside.”