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My gaze flicked to Silas for confirmation. Regan was tough. She didn’t like being vulnerable or perceived as weak. But he nodded, wordlessly telling me it was the truth. “You want something to drink?” he said casually.

“No, thank you.” All I really wanted was to know why they’d asked me over. I’d worked tonight, and she wasn’t feeling well, so doing a scene didn’t seem to be on the menu.

“Silas said you have a date tomorrow,” she said. “Does the guy know where you were tonight?”

Fuck. She went straight for the jugular. I shifted my weight on my feet, uncomfortable in my guilt. “No, I haven’t told him yet. I was going to tomorrow.”

“What’d you tell him about our arrangement?”

I stared at the carpet. “I, uh, haven’t done that either. I told him I was seeing someone, but it wasn’t exclusive.” I frowned. “I just met him today.”

Her tone was measured. “How?”

“At rehearsal for the ChiComm thing. He plays the cello.”

I wasn’t going to give her much information, because Regan could be ruthless. She could read people in an instant and knew everything about

everyone. Her accountant personality made her obsessed with data, and she dug into people’s backgrounds, including mine.

Regan gave the word ‘thorough’ a whole new meaning. It was great at the club—not so great in my personal life.

I wanted Grant to remain the man I hoped he was, just for a little while. If he had unpaid parking tickets or a kid from a previous marriage, I wanted to give him a chance to tell me.

She leaned back against the couch, and there was a crack in her façade. She looked nervous. “We like what we have with you, Tara.”

My breath caught in my throat.

She bit down on her bottom lip, her confidence crumbling faster now. “Is there something you need that we can give you?”

Her question punched the air clean from my lungs. They’d called me over tonight, not to demand my submission, but because they were worried they were losing me.

I went to her, kneeling beside the couch at her feet. “No,” I said quickly. “What we have is great.” I swallowed hard, needing to be honest. “What you guys have with each other . . . it’s just, sometimes I want that for myself.”

I probably should have said I needed it, rather than wanted.

There were four positions in the hierarchy of a dominant/submissive relationship. As the sub, my wants were at the bottom, but my needs? Those were at the top, more important than anything else.

My first dominant’s voice echoed through my mind. Joseph had drilled the phrase into me. Live the hierarchy.

“I need this.” I gave her a soft smile. “But don’t worry. I expect him to bail as soon as he knows everything.”

She considered my statement. “Let’s say you tell him, and he’s okay with it. Would you let us meet him?”

I sat up straighter. As much as I wanted Grant to accept all of me, I lived in reality. “He won’t.”

“But if he did, could—”

“Sure.” There was no way Grant was going to be fine with it.

Pleasant surprise darted through her expression. She hadn’t expected me to agree. And when I gave an inch, Regan took the whole fucking mile. Her shoulders straightened as her power swelled. “Can we make a request?” When I nodded, she added, “Can you not sleep with him until we’ve had a chance to meet him?”

My pulse quickened. “Is this . . . a rule?”

The atmosphere in the room began to shift as it filled with sexual tension. Silas’s voice was full of seduction. “If you would like it to be one, it can.”

She matched his tone. “We could give you all kinds of rules.”

I was flooded with heat. It was a new way for Regan and Silas to control my pleasure, even when they weren’t in the room. They dangled their dominance like a carrot on a stick, and I was willing to follow.


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