Page 16 of Over the Line

Master Michael was waiting for her inside the patio doors, with her purse in hand. Oddly, it didn’t detract from his masculinity.

“I took the liberty of asking for your belongings and having your car brought around.”

She accepted the small handbag. “That was considerate.”

“Unless you’ve changed your mind?” He captured her chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“You don’t scare me,” she said, meeting his gaze. His eyes were a deep, dark green, as unreadable as they were inviting.

“Perhaps I should.”

The pseudo-threat sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. While he kept her imprisoned, he swept a fingertip across her jawbone. “I’ll follow you,” she said, feigning a calm that had suddenly deserted her. As Master Damien had pointed out, she didn’t go home with men, and Master Michael was nothing like the other Doms she’d played with. But his complexity intrigued her. She’d known him only a short time, yet she’d already figured out he was as demanding emotionally as he was physically. The physical part excited her. The emotional one…? That she could do without.

“Shall we?” he asked, releasing his hold to rest his palm against the small of her back, guiding her through the house and back outside.

An attendant, nattily dressed as if he were a doorman at a New York City hotel—minus a shirt—wished them a good evening.

That Michael drove a new but dusty, oversize pickup truck didn’t surprise her. The jeans, cowboy hat, and worn leather boots were obviously not just for effect.

She followed him out of the secluded area where the Den was nestled, and they turned onto Highway 34, heading north. There were distant peaks, seemingly endless miles of high-mountain prairie, but very few headlights from oncoming cars. It was as if they had the world to themselves.

Rather than getting nervous, the kind of anticipation that came from the unknown raced through her. To focus herself, she set her streaming service to her favorite channel, then cranked up the volume, blasting dance music throughout the passenger compartment of her decade-old small sports utility vehicle.

She kept his taillights in sight and she appreciated that he drove a bit over the speed limit. About half an hour later, they left the tarmac behind. A large pothole in a bumpy dirt road almost jarred the wheel from her hands.

This definitely hadn’t been what she’d planned when she had shimmied into the leather dress several hours ago. In fact, out here, her attire and sandals seemed ridiculous.

They bypassed several turn-offs, and she had to drop back in order to not get blasted by the dirt spewing behind his tires.

A few minutes later, he followed a fork to the right. She was starting to wonder if it was a road to nowhere when he braked to a stop in front of a well-lit gate. It was buttressed by massive, rough-hewn wooden poles that soared at least twenty feet in the air. A beam spanned the overhead distance, and a metal sign hung from chains. A large raptor with talons extended was emblazoned on the left side, next to the words Eagle’s Bend Ranch.

With his hat still firmly in place, the lord and master of the place walked back to her vehicle. She pushed a button to lower the window.

“Welcome to my small slice of heaven.” He tipped his hat. “Follow me through the gate, then I’ll close it behind us.” He placed his hands on the door and leaned in.

Damn, he smelled good—of rugged, open space.

“Scared yet?”

“Not a chance.”

With a grin, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “That’s my girl.”

The easy familiarity took her by surprise. No one had called her anything like that. Nasty sex words, yes. Syrupy, sugary, hoping-to-get-you-to-bed words like honey and baby, yes. But something that innocuous? Definitely not. It didn’t fit her. So why the hell was she smiling back at him?

Without another word, he turned away. Her gaze was riveted on the way his jeans fit his hot rear, and she didn’t glance away until he’d climbed back into the truck then driven through the entrance.

She pulled in behind him, then the gates slid shut.

Now she was nervous. He’d effectively blocked her escape.

He stopped by her vehicle again.

“The code for the lock is M-Y-H-M,” he said. “Shorthand for my home, so it’s easy to remember.”

She exhaled. “How did you know?”

“Darlin’, you haven’t blinked in thirty seconds. You’ve already told me that not much scares you.”