Dare to Submit (NY Dares 2)

He laughed. “You can be fun,” he said, clearly surprised.

She grinned. “I have my moments.” With the seriousness of Mike behind her, her insulting herself and that punishment over, she was ready to play.

John, the monitor, winked at her as Decklan led her out and onto the street. With Brad’s check, the club staff knowing who she was with, and understanding that Decklan had been vetted and Mike an aberration, Amanda felt safe leaving with him.

He kept his hand protectively on her back as he led her to the lot where he’d parked his car and held open the door for her once the attendant brought the black SUV around. The radio played Top 100, and she settled into the comfortable seat.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I am. Thanks.” Surprisingly, she was fine. No, she wasn’t a woman who normally left a club or bar with a stranger, but Decklan Dare didn’t feel like someone she’d never met. And she really wanted one night with this dominant, sexy man.

The rest of the car ride passed in comfortable silence. He didn’t push for conversation, and she was still feeling tingly and relaxed from actually reaching subspace with Decklan. Soon he turned off the highway, and after driving through side streets with small homes that were close together, he turned into an apartment complex and parked in a spot out front.

The lot was well lit, enabling her to see that the grounds were well maintained and the building fairly new. Nice but not excessive. Yet membership in the club was a fortune. She couldn’t afford it if Brad hadn’t insisted on making it a perk of her job. She wondered how Mr. Decklan Dare could be a cop who lived here yet be able to afford the membership. Though Brad could get her all the information she wanted on Decklan, she’d never go that far. Safety was one thing, digging and being intrusive another. This was a one-night stand, and her curiosity wouldn’t be assuaged any time soon.

Inside the apartment, she found purely masculine décor with a definite flair. A navy, white, and taupe color scheme, comfortable couches, large-screen television.

“Who decorated?” she asked, certain he wasn’t the type to hang ornate mirrors or purchase knickknacks to give the place a homier feel.

“My sister, Lucy.”

She nodded. “She has good taste.”

“It’s what she does. My brother, Gabe, runs the family business, which includes exclusive clubs around the country. Ever hear of Elite?”

She nodded, impressed. “I recently read about the opening on the island Eden.”

“That’s them. Lucy does the décor.”

“A family business yet you’re a cop.” She grinned. “Like to do things your way?”

He laughed. “More like that’s how Gabe likes to do things. My parents died in an accident when I was nineteen. Gabe took over and made sure I went to college and became a cop because that’s all I ever wanted to do. He sacrificed his needs to let me and Lucy have our own.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Decklan didn’t reply. Sympathy always made him uncomfortable. So did the knowledge that he always felt like he owed Gabe. Another reason he felt so out of control after his parents died. He might have achieved his dream of being in law enforcement, but he’d done it at his big brother’s expense. Gabe never complained. But he’d never had a choice in what he wanted to do. Gabe had become the defacto parent. It was one of the reasons Decklan gravitated toward the BDSM scene. Regaining control helped him deal with his darker emotions.

“He sounds like a great guy,” Amanda said.

“He’s an ass.”

Amanda spun to face him, her eyes wide in surprise.

Decklan shrugged. “He is. To everyone but me, Lucy, and his new wife, Isabelle. He had to be to get where he is today. But I respect him even when I want to throttle him.”

“I wish I had siblings.”

“Only child?”

She shrugged. “Unfortunately.”

He was suddenly aware of how intimate the conversation had become. More like two people getting to know one another than the reality—two people who’d come together for sex. He pushed aside the feeling that talking to her was easy and that he wanted to dig deeper into who she was. What had created the insecurities he’d witnessed earlier. The sadness he heard in her tone now.

Time to move the conversation forward. “Come.” He directed her into his small kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”

She shook her head. “This kitchen is so comfortable. Do you cook?” she asked, glancing around.

“No. I usually pick something up on the way home from work. What about you?”