Page 36 of A Secret and a Lie

The items in his hand are immediately discarded, tossed on the dresser as he steps in front of her, ripping the blindfold from her eyes. Her eyes are wild, likely unseeing.

I move toward them, ensuring that I stay back enough for Ford to remain in charge.

“Sloane, focus on me.” His voice is heavy with authority, and he bends slightly so they’re eye-to-eye, holding her attention, even while he moves to unfasten the cuffs. “Breathe.”

He coaches her through the next several measured inhales and exhales before unfastening her ankles. When she’s free, her body trembles, and she throws her arms around Ford’s shoulders. He stiffens but recovers quickly as he carries her over to the couch, dragging the blanket over her.

“Are you alright?” he asks after several minutes, his tone genuine. I lean against the bedpost, watching the two of them together as my insides curl with envy.

He navigated that situation flawlessly, ending the scene even before she could safe word. I’m confident she would have, but the panic seemed to have seized her before her mouth could form the word. I wouldn’t have handled that any differently myself.

She nods, her breathing now regulated. “I’m sorry.”

Ford frowns. “Do not apologize. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not right now, maybe…later.” If this were a full-time Dom/sub dynamic, I’d be pressing my submissive for how they planned to navigate a triggered episode, but she’s not mine. Luckily, I know she has a standing appointment with a therapist—something I offer all my employees—every week.

“I ruined your lesson, though,” she comments, and Ford shakes his head. “Maybe Allison can fill in for me so you can get a feel for the cross.”

Two sets of eyes suddenly land on me, and my gaze widens as I shake my head.

But it’s too late.

Ford’s mouth has already spread into a lurid grin, his blue eyes glinting. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Eyes narrowing, I grind my teeth. “I don’t.”

“You wouldn’t have to submit, just fill in. Like a body double,” Sloane explains innocently, having no idea what door she’s just opened.

“No.” My voice is harsh and biting, brooking no argument.

Ford’s smirk highlights the sinful dimple tempting to be licked and kissed as it threatens to disarm me. “Please. It’d be great to be able to practice with the cross.”

Practice. Yeah, I’m sure.

This is the worst idea in the history of ideas. Nothing good can come of this for me, but still, the potential to submit is like an irresistible lure in the darkness. Death will await, and the journey will be delicious.

“Fine,” I relent for seemingly no good reason. “But I will not be undressing more than my blazer.”

I take off the jacket and drape it over the end of the large bed, my pulse skittering like mad. Turning on my heel, I stalk toward the imposing black woodenX.Over my shoulder, I can hear the two of them speaking, their voices low, but I can’t make out their exchange over the pounding of my heart in my ears.

Cursing myself for wearing a goddamn skirt and my most daring, low-cut bustier today, I turn and place my back against the junction of the cross, the painted wood cool against my slivers of exposed skin.

His shoulders are set, one corner of his mouth hitched slightly as he approaches me. “Are you ready to be strung up like a perfect little doll for me to play with?”

A perfect little doll.My pupils dilate, my greedy cunt squeezing around thin air, imploring me to stuff it full of cock. Traitor.

I hate that it’s both the term and the degradation that’s unraveling strands of my control. I grit my teeth against the urge to call himSirand to beg him to strip me and whip me until I’m a sobbing mess. When I remain silent, he tilts his head to the side.

“Not a very submissive doll, are you? I asked you a question.”

My eyebrow quirks. “This is meant to be a demonstration, nothing more. My submission is not required.”

Another smirk pulls at his lips, and I hate the way his eyes fucking sparkle. It’s infuriating.

“Have it your way, then.” Leaning forward, he restrains my rightwrist, buckling it into the black cuff. As he does, he dips his head and murmurs for only me to hear, “I bet I’ll have you begging by the end.”

My gasp catches in my throat, and I force myself to look away and take a deep breath, but the moment I inhale, I’m once again met with the exasperatingly intoxicating smell of black pepper and tobacco.