Sweet, innkeeper Amy was in WitSec? I betthat’sa story.
“I’ll bring it right back.” He’s gone before I can undo my decision.
I close my eyes and pray this doesn’t bite me in the ass. Then it hits me. I’m going to a BDSM club and I don’t know the first thing about them. I’m supposed to be the expert writing about them. I grab my phone and start searching for books.The Bonds of Loveby Cecilia Tan. Looks good. I add it to my e-library and keep searching. Marie Tuhart. Raisa Greywood. After adding more books than I can possibly read, I search for the club.
Pandora has a quirky welcoming website nothing that screams black-leather, ass-beating scary bastards.
I roll my eyes at myself. Clearly, I have some preconceived notions I need to get over. The site lists educational webinars, potluck lunches, and movie night. I half expect them to have daycare hours for the kids. Maybe they do—I giggle—for the littles. Even I’ve read a Pepper North book. I close the browser on my phone—enough playing on the internet.
If this Alex is who my uncle is looking for, I’m going to pull off getting him to confess what he did or possibly replicate it with me—a shiver shoots up my spine—I’ll have to get real comfortable real quick with being tied up and losing all control. My throat tightens and I gasp for breath. No matter what, if he tries to force his dick in my mouth, I’ll bite it off. No matter how attractive he is, that’s one thing I just can’t… I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.
I shake off the hideous memories bubbling up.Breathe.
One thing at a time.Breathe.
First I have some reading to do.Breathe.
Tyler returns my ID just as I’m ready to settle into my first book. “All set.”
First hurdle cleared.
Two days later I’ve read several books, rubbed out several orgasms, and I’m hopelessly intrigued. All the stories focus heavily on consent, on the emotional connection, the mental state changes that the partners experience in a scene. Not that I’m comfortable being tied up by someone I don’t know, but I can’t deny how sexy the power dynamics are and I’m curious. Especially since I told everyone I’m writing a BDSM romance.
Eliot’s van is huge and has an electric lift at the back for a wheelchair. Not sure what that’s for but I don’t ask. A short way into the long drive to Colorado Springs, Stone, in the front passenger seat, asks Eliot what’s going on with Blake’s recovery. I lean forward from the last row. Amy’s beside Tyler in the second row, and Alex is leaning as far away from me as he can despite the fact we’re sharing the bench seat.
Eliot doesn’t take his eyes from the road or lift a finger from the steering wheel. “Physically. He making good progress. Graci found a reflexologist couple in Albuquerque who have worked with stroke victims, paraplegics, and even quads. They’ve been advising her on Zoom and they agreed to come up for a weekend intensive and work with her on techniques.”
“That’s good news.” Stone’s deep voice resonates with hope.
“Graci said she’s seen Blake move his other foot when she’s working on him.”
“What does Blake say?” Alex asks.
Eliot shrugs. “Ask him when you see him.”
A heavy emotional fog coats the interior of the van weighing down any further conversation for miles. I try to piece together what I know of Eliot and what I’ve heard of Blake, but I don’t have enough to form the barest sketch. And it’s clear this is not a topic that invites the questions of strangers. Alex is avoiding looking at me much less speaking. I pull up one of my research books on my phone and try to mentally prepare for my club visit. The characters in the story are discussing the “scene” they will share. The safe words, the limits.
Hours later we hit traffic and I assume we’re either close to or in Colorado Springs. Eliot’s phone rings a number over the vehicle speakers.
“Hey El.”
“Cade,” Eliot responds to the man who answered. “We’re just getting into town. Where are you?”
“PT.” This Cade person sounds defeated and my heart aches for him even though I don’t know him.
“How much longer?”
“Just got here, so couple hours.”
“We’ll head there first.”
The call ends without further discussion or even goodbyes. No one says a word. The mood is so heavy, it doesn’t feel right to keep reading sexy stories. I’m not sure I should be going wherever the van is headed, but I can’t demand they drop me off. If I’d known they weren’t just going to the club, I wouldn’t have gotten in the van so easily. I dread what might come next.
Eliot parks the van in front of what looks like the main clubhouse for luxury apartments. His hands are still wrapped around the steering wheel. He puts his head down for a moment and sighs like he’s praying for strength. Whatever is in that building is a tragic story I’m not ready to hear.
Everyone piles out with a few groans and some impromptu stretching. Alex moves as if he was merely on the couch for and episode of his favorite show. No moans, no stretching. The third row was fine, but even I drop forward and slowly roll out my spine once I’m outside. When I’m upright again, he has his back to me. “Coming or what?”
“I can stay with the van.” I don’t belong in the middle of whatever is happening here.
