That’s it. I knock on the door, three firm raps. “SJ.”
She mumbles something.
I knock again harder.
The lock clicks and she’s still dressed in her club gear.
“Are you okay?” I ask, reaching out to swipe away a tear.
“Are you naked?”
Aw shit.I drop my hands and cover my junk. “I was asleep. Sounded like you were in trouble. I wasn’t— I shouldn’t?—”
“Just my agent.”
“He shouldn’t talk to you like that.” Because it’s lighting up all kinds of protective instincts in me.
“You could hear him?” She clasps her arms protectively.
“No, I could hearyou. Maybe you need a new agent.”
“It’s not that simple. I’m…late. On my book.”
I reach up and stroke the hair back from her face. “No matter how late you are, it’s not okay for someone to abuse you.” I’m sure not going to let her be bullied over a book contract. Not right under my nose. “If you ever want me to tie you up for real, you’ll have to learn to say no and mean it. Even when you’re not in the obvious position of power, you still have to be assertive when it comes to your safety, your mental health, your well-being.”
Somehow SJ is in my arms. She trails her fingers down my cheek and I tilt my head down to kiss her. Her lips touch mine and electricity flows from my mouth directly to my balls. I press my hips forward into the cradle of her thighs. She grips my biceps and steps back. She swipes her lips with her tongue and my knees shake with need.
“I can’t do this.” She takes another step back and I mirror her movement because she’s right. “Not with you. Not tonight.”
The next thing I know the lock on her door is snicking into place.
How did that happen? What is it about this woman? She makes me forget all my rules. I haven’t been alone with a woman and naked anywhere in almost ten years, much less a hotel room. The image of her screaming for help and my life imploding again is enough to kill any lingering lust and deflate my dick. But my gut is still demanding I protect her from the asshole on the other end of the phone. My guts will have to shut the hell up because it’s not my place to deal with her editor, even if he is making her act like a victim. She’s not my problem.
The alarm goes off before I’ve had a wink of sleep, at least not any actual rest. Images of SJ in my rigging warred with images of her being taken away by a shadow of a monster. I fucked and fought in my head the rest of the night, but we have to check out. I grab a shower and head downstairs to meet the group. After a quick bite of breakfast at the hotel buffet, we’re loaded back in the van. Stone’s driving. Tyler shotgun. I’m in the last row behind Amy and SJ. Guess Eliot decided to stay and spend time with Blake. I tilt my head back and close my eyes intending to get the rest I missed while I was sleeping.
“How’d you get started writing BDSM romance, SJ?” Stone’s question, lobbed into the backseat has me jolting up.
She laughs nervously. Stone has that effect on people. The van is silent, waiting for her to answer. Guess we’re all curious.
“Well.” She tilts her head and straightens. “I started in copywriting. Brochures, ad copy, rebranding. Stuff like that. Graphic design as well, but I don’t use those skills for my books. The, uh, the publisher does my covers. But I do some promotional stuff on my own.”
Stone’s cold gaze in the rearview mirror makes me want to confess everything, and I’m not event the one being grilled.
“But the writing. That, um. That was more of a hobby thing that I started because the writing I was doing for work was pretty boring. There’s only so many things that can be said about oatmeal and diapers. Right?”
“Why BDSM?”
“It was a good niche. Popular. And I like reading those books.”
I wait for what Stone will reply. Will he tell her she has no business writing about a community she doesn’t know the first thing about? Will he give her approval for following her dreams? Has he read any of her books? She writes under a pen name, but that wouldn’t stop Tyler and Stone if they wanted to find what she’s published.
Stone’s not done. “Do you like writing about BDSM?”
“Yes?” The interrogation is starting make Sonja nervous.
“Would you be interested in a little cross-over job? Copywriting and BDSM?”
She bites her lip. “Maybe. What would it involve.”
