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Chapter One

Cara movedthrough the thick crowd, bumping into people like a pinball. Her multitude of apologies probably went unheard due to the deep bass thumping from the loud dance music.

She had never been to a nightclub—it had never been her scene—but she could imagine this would be a similar atmosphere.

The volume ofOne More Timeby Daft Punk was deafening, to say nothing of the people trying to talk above the din, as well as others singing along with every tune the DJ was spinning onstage to rock down the house.

Or more like event hall.

Colorful lights ricocheted around the inside of the building named The Mane Event Hall. They tinted people different shades and occasionally blinded Cara as she worked her way around the large interior.

Drinks flowed freely. Resort guests danced without reserve: bumping and grinding, twirling and twisting. They laughed and shouted.

While everyone else was having a good time, Cara felt a little out of place.

Some attendees had dressed for tonight’s fantasy theme. Glitter, fairy wings, gossamer skirts and body paint. Costumes in vibrant blues, greens, pinks, purples, and every other color a person could imagine.

Others ignored the party’s theme by going naked or wearing risqué outfits. She spotted men and women alike wearing leather harnesses that exposed their breasts, as well as other parts.

When her elbow was knocked by two women making out along the wall, half of her lemon drop martini landed on the floor. The other half on her.

“Shit.” She looked at the now-empty glass, the wet floor, then down at herself. That was a waste of a good martini.

She could head to the bathroom and try to clean up, or she could go back to her room and call it a night.

Only having checked in a few hours ago, she wasn’t quite sure why she decided to attend tonight’s special event. Her room looked more inviting by the second. As did the silence.

She had come to Double D Ranch to dip her toes into this unknown world, not to jump in feet first. It might be better to expose herself to this lifestyle in small doses in order to see if she was even interested. To see if it was for her.

She set her empty glass on a nearby tray meant for dirty glassware and continued on her way. If she kept moving, maybe no one would notice how out of place she looked. Or how awkward she felt.

This was not her scene.

She didn’t belong here.

Someone would spot her, see she was out of her element, and call her out. She just knew it.

She glanced around to see if anyone was staring. Or pointing fingers.

Of course they weren’t. She was being paranoid over nothing. Nobody cared she was here.

She decided to book this trip for that reason. The website stated the guests weren’t pressured to do anything they weren’t comfortable with. They could do whatever they wanted with anyone willing to do the same. Or guests could do absolutely nothing.

Once she ran across their website, it took her five days until she was brave enough to call. She unreasonably thought they would instantly know this world was not for her. Alarms would go off and red alerts would be sent out via text, phone, and email.

It was silly, she knew.

Eventually, she finally did call because, even after reading their FAQ page on their website—threetimes no less—she still had questions.

But then, she did tend to overthink things.

For some reason, she didn’t expect a man with a toe-curling voice to answer. He was not only pleasant to listen to, but patient and helpful. Maybe he picked up on how intimidated and unsure Cara came across.

Her first question had her cheeks burning hot and she was glad it was a phone call instead of a video chat or in-person conversation. “Is this a…BDSM club?”

She had read plenty of erotica and erotic romance novels involving kinky sex clubs at the public library where she worked.

Funny enough, that unquenchable interest started when a regular library patron, to whom Cara normally recommended books, turned around and told her about a book by one of her favorite authors.