Trent carefully fastened each cuff around her thin wrists, checking them for tightness by sliding his finger inside, between the padded cuff and her skin.
She shivered at the click of the padlock.
“We’ve each got a key,” Trent said, holding one up before sliding it into his pocket. “Also, if there is ever a problem, the security guards have cutters on them at all times, so they can take off the padlocks in a second.”
She blew out a slow, controlled breath, as if committing those facts to memory, as if reassuring herself that because of them, it was safe.
Which, Garrison had to admit, he wasn’t sure he could do. If the shoe were on the other foot, if it were him who had suffered like she had, he doubted he could hand over his safety to three people he barely knew.
It reminded him that despite the fact that he seemed to be in control, subs were tougher than they were given credit for. No matter what happened to them, they rallied.
The thought made him slide his arm around her waist and pull Sunny tighter against him, enjoying how well she fit in his lap. “How was your week?” he asked.
She did that slow look-over thing he’d seen from her before, something that said it wasn’t the question she’d been expecting.
“What?” he asked.
She furrowed her eyebrows. “I just thought…”
“Thought what?”
“That we’d do something else. Not talk.”
“You have a problem with talking?” Connor took a seat beside Garrison, where her knees where, while Trent went to the other side, behind her back.
She didn’t need to answer.
Yes, talking was a problem for her. She might have gotten used to the idea of them playing with her, but somehow a conversation made it too personal.
It made Garrison chuckle again at how little she really understood. “Believe it or not, this club isn’t all public sex and whips.”
Just then, the crack of a flogger made him wince.
“Well, I mean, there is some of that.”
Sunny stared at him before a smile appeared on her full, sexy lips, as if she couldn’t help it.
Thatwas what he liked, those moments where she didn’t want to like them but did anyway.
“My week was fine,” she answered, words short.
“No more calls or anything, right?” Connor asked.
She tensed, but Garrison couldn’t blame Connor for asking. They needed to know, and she seemed the type to weasel out of giving information she didn’t want to give by omitting it. She wasn’t a ‘lie to a man’s face’ sort of girl, but she’d get away with what she could.
“No,” she answered, telling him that it still bothered her, that she still hadn’t fully moved past it.
Which prickled. He’d wanted to find an answer for her, to be able to tell her it was some kid having fun or a scammer who wanted her social security number. It was still probably one of those things, but he wouldn’t lie just to make her feel better.
Instead, he ran his hand up her back, playing over the laces of the corset. “How’s everything at work?”
That eased her. “Good. Uneventful, but that’s always the best. I’ll take an uneventful day over an exciting one anytime.” She shifted, as if unused to the closeness, the personal conversations. Still, she didn’t pull away. “And you?”
Garrison grinned, enjoying the hesitant way she asked. “Fine. Sales were good, nothing important.”
Trent set his feet on the table, his water bottle in his lap. “Hit my quotas, so I can’t complain.”
Connor took one drink before grabbing her legs and resting them over his lap. “I had a mare who was having trouble in delivery. No, don’t worry, mama and baby are both doing fine.”