"What is that?" she pointed to an odd-looking contraption in the corner. It had two different pads, set at different heights. It was covered in red vinyl, and the metal stand was painted a glossy black.

"Spanking bench."

"It looks like a chair." She considered it. "Of sorts."

"It's a versatile piece. The k.n.o.bs on the side allow the back platform to be adjusted by about a foot and the lower portion can be unlocked so it folds down. Eyehooks allow the Dom to bind a sub in any number of ways. You can kneel on the bottom part and be secured to the top. I can have you stand and grab the top. From the opposite side, you can be fastened to the lower end so that you're bent over more. I can even make it all the same height. The possibilities are almost endless."

She realized he'd started out by talking about the spanking bench in general terms. But then he'd become more specific. Instead of discussing how a Dom restrained a sub, now he was being explicit about what he expected from her. "This place seems pretty kinky for a man who says he's only looking for a submissive to show him respect."

"I did say I enjoyed kinky s.e.x," he reminded her, his eyes dancing with a devilment that made her shiver.

"You did." A number of floggers hung on the walls, along with other scary-looking implements of pain.

"You indicated you'd had some experience with a flogger."

"It didn't look quite like those. It was shorter, not as..." She searched for the right word. "St.u.r.dy. Less expensive, maybe?" She doubted it had even been made of leather. Even from a few feet away, there was no mistaking the scent of these. "I'm not really sure what everything else is. Some, I can guess." The cane, for example.

He took down a coiled piece of leather. It was black, braided and fearsome.

"This is a single tail," he said. "It's a type of whip."

"Looks like something out of an action-adventure movie." She stared, fascinated. "Do you carry it when you go looking for the Holy Grail?"

"This whip does know how to get to the bottom of things. It's particularly attracted to smart-a.s.ses."

She hadn't seen this side of him, a ferocious scowl softened by an easy tone. It made him more complex, more real, approachable. "You know, I kind of like that image," she teased. Maybe a little too much. "I can see you as a dashing moving hero. Sir Indiana Jones, perhaps?" d.a.m.n if all of this didn't add to his appeal, not that she needed any more reasons to be attracted to him.

"Let's see if I can be as accurate with it as Indy was, shall we?" He shook out the single tail.

She took a step back, her laughter dying. He still looked dashing, but more than a smidgeon of intimidation had been mixed in. The whip portion had to be several feet long. "I promise to behave."

"Like most things, it can be gentle or it can sting, depending. This one in particular is meant for beginners. For you."

"It never occurred to me that there would be different kinds."

"Some I would probably never use on you. I'd enjoy it if you asked for a session with it."

"Until you, Mr. Donovan, I had thought I was at least a little adventurous."

"Your choice."

She was curious. Very much. And scared.

He waited.

"One?" she suggested.

"How would you like it?"

"I feel like I'm at a bar ordering a drink."

"A brush of the tip? A crack?"

That suggestion made her clench her b.u.t.tocks. "The first. Just a brush."

"Let's go over there, where there's more room."

Nerves and a swarm of excitement collided in her belly.

"I'm going to have a couple of practice strokes. Go ahead and sit on the spanking bench and watch."

Lara recognized how smart he was. Letting her be a voyeur, getting her accustomed to his s.p.a.ce in a nonthreatening way.

Since she wasn't sure exactly sure how to sit on the thing, she chose the lower platform. The padding was surprisingly thick and firm. As she got comfortable, she couldn't banish images of herself over it, face up, face down. In all her wild scenarios he'd immobilized her. Even though she'd had an o.r.g.a.s.m a few minutes ago, she started to get aroused again.

He brought out a towel from one of the drawers and hung it from a hook secured to the wall, presumably as a target. Then he turned his body at a slight angle, put one foot forward, held the whip over his shoulder. A moment later, he brought it forward in a single gentle motion. The stroke landed right in the middle of the towel.

She stared, fascinated.

He turned and repeated the process, using his backhand.

"That sounded...quiet." Not what she expected.

"You wanted the Hollywood version?"

Imagining him as the rakish hero, she said, "Yes."

He turned to use his forehand again. This time, he cracked the whip.

She gasped, even though it had been nowhere near her. "Okay. That was scary."

"It's all in the touch, the force. Precision. Control."

"That's a word that suits you. Is that the way you run your life?"

"You could say that. Now bring that sweet rear of yours over here."

"I might have changed my mind."

He lowered his head a little and regarded her. With the look and using no words, he called her out as a coward, someone who wouldn't do more than put a little toe into the water.

"Okay," she said. "But just the brush part." She stood. "You promise?"

"Lara."

That uncompromising note galvanized her and she moved into the middle of the room.

"Your choice. You can get on all fours or lean up against the wall with your hands above you. Or you can bend over. I recommend one of the first two options because you're more likely to stay in place. And I want your dress out of the way."

"All fours," she said.

She got into position and pulled up her dress. She felt scandalously exposed with her bare rear and still-damp p.u.s.s.y.

"Which cheek?"

"Left." Backhand. Theoretically a weaker stroke.

"And the correct answer is...?"

Oh my G.o.d. "Whichever you prefer, Sir." She looked over her shoulder. "Does that earn me a punishment?"

"It does. One stroke on each a.s.s cheek."

"Yes, Sir," she said miserably. She brought her head back to neutral and looked at the floor.

The first landed on her left b.u.t.tock. A brush, something sensual that she barely felt. He followed it by a stroke on her right side. It bit and made her gasp. But it reignited her arousal.

"How was that?"

She hesitated. He'd left her hungry for more. But she was reluctant to reveal that she'd liked it. "Better than I imagined."

He rubbed a thumb over each place he'd landed the strokes then said, "You can get back up."

She accepted his hand.

Her dress fell back into place, and she rubbed her right b.u.t.t cheek through the material.

He coiled up the whip and rehung it on the wall. It didn't surprise her that he retrieved the towel, folded it and returned it to its rightful place.

Control was definitely the correct word to define his personality.

"These are crops." He pointed to the far side, continuing his earlier conversation as if he hadn't just delivered two exquisite lashes that made her mind spin. "This is a spanker." He took it down and offered it to her.

At first glance it looked like a leather paddle. But he showed her it was actually two different pieces. "This one, you may actually like."

Which meant there could be others she wouldn't.

"This weekend, we can experiment with anything you choose. In fact, we can use all of them if you're up for it."

She couldn't breathe.

"Spend Sat.u.r.day with me. We'll have some instructional time followed by a nice dinner, like a normal date, be seen in public together so that the announcement of our marriage will seems more realistic."

"If it happens."

"My lawyer is drawing up the prenuptial. I a.s.sume you've spoken to yours?"

"I was waiting until tomorrow." She shook her head. "I mean, until after we'd been alone." He, on the other hand, had known or at least suspected she'd respond well to him. Lara supposed she should be heartened by his confidence, but she was feeling slightly out of control and had been since the moment she'd walked into his office with her proposal. She'd had no idea what she was getting into.

"That's fine. You can expect mine tomorrow, and you can make any amendments, have your lawyer review it and send it back."

"Of course." She reminded herself they were talking about a business transaction. But that was difficult to remember with the way her b.u.t.tocks still burned. She'd felt the impact of his single tail and she was staring at countless other instruments of torture.

"This..."

He waited.

Lara was beginning to realize what a strength his silence could be. It forced someone else to speak, gave him the opportunity to think, respond and strategize. She vowed to learn from him.

Time stretched, and she wondered what kind of commitment he was demanding from her. He'd said Dominance was part of his personality, and this underscored it. "How often would we use this room?"

"Daily."

Her heart stopped. "Are you serious?"

"No." He grinned.

She closed her eyes to regroup.

"I antic.i.p.ate we would use it often. At least once a week."

Which meant, even if they were only married a year, fifty-two times. "You expect a lot."

"I want you to be clear about what I will demand from you."

"I think I've seen enough."

He nodded.

She left the room, and he closed the door behind them.

In the living room, she was able to breathe properly again. "It's been a long day," she said by way of excusing herself.

"Would you like me to drive you home?"

"I need my car for tomorrow."

He nodded. "Call me with any questions about the contract. I'll plan on picking you up Sat.u.r.day around one?"

None of this was proceeding as she'd planned. She'd figured they'd hammer out an agreement in a roomful of lawyers, announce their marriage then each go on with their regular lives.

She hadn't counted on Connor being a Dominant and taking marriage vows seriously. On one hand, it felt like they were moving too fast. On the other, she was anxious to get the whole thing behind them so he could join the BHI board.

"I'll walk you down."

Already she knew better than to argue.

Since there were other people in the elevator, they remained silent on the ride down.