Get a grip, Kimani, and stop being so paranoid.
“How about we check in on you every ten minutes?” Miguel offered.
Kimani drew in a long breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Marissa squealed and jumped up and down. Kimani was glad she could make Marissa happy. She shouldn’t let what had happened with the Scarlet Auction ruin opportunities like these.
Nevertheless, as they followed the redhead through the curtains toward the entrance where the stairs were, she couldn’t shake her feeling of unease.
Chapter Thirteen
Silk upholstery on the divan and
even silk wallpaper adorned the Silk Room, dimly lit with golden candelabras and wall sconces. Above the marble fireplace hung a wide life-size painting of a naked woman reclined upon a sofa. With a large bed, lavishly adorned with silk linen beneath a silk canopy, the room looked fit for a luxury bed and breakfast, and not at all what Kimani had expected to find in a BDSM club.
Weary of the bed, Kimani chose to situate herself as far from it as possible and stay near the entrance/exit. She thought once more of the woman whom she had seen go up the stairs earlier. If the woman was the one who’d invited them, was she interested in Kimani? Would the woman see and honor the white wristband or would she try to push her luck?
“May I offer you some refreshment?” the redhead asked. “We have water, soda, tea and lemonade.”
“No alcohol?” Kimani asked, surprised.
“We’ve always been dry. Alcohol is too risky, especially in an establishment like ours.”
“I respect that. I’ll take a glass of water, thank you.”
“Still or sparkling?”
“Still.”
“We have cucumber- and blackberry-infused water, or strawberry and lemon.”
“Strawberry and lemon sounds great.”
After the redhead left through the curtained doorway, Kimani took a closer look at the furnishings about the room. Taking a few steps toward a dresser against the nearest wall, she opened one of the drawers, wondering why this room existed in a BDSM club.
Sure enough, her answer lie in the “jewelry” resting in velvet compartments of the first drawer: nipple clamps, collars, and gags of all kinds. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw one particularly uncomfortable-looking gag. She knew what the ball gag was like—she had worn one twice for Ben. But the one lying in the drawer beside a traditional ball gag had a metal ring with metal spokes coming out of it. It looked almost like a medical device. She picked it up and held it closer to the nearest wall sconce to study it. Maybe it wasn’t intended for the mouth?
“It’s a spider gag.”
Her heartbeat vanished, leaving her momentarily without a pulse.
Dropping the gag into the drawer, she turned around to confirm the voice she recognized. Her heartbeat returned, palpitating quickly. It wasn’t the woman she had seen earlier.
It was Ben.
He stood in partial shadow at the threshold, but she found the whites of his eyes, and the penetration of his stare weakened her legs. Tearing herself away from his gaze, she saw that he wore a tight-fitting shirt and slim jeans that would have made her mouth water if she didn’t feel trapped all of a sudden.
She shouldn’t have moved away from the entry. Door or no door, it would be hard to escape.
But I was able to play him even, she recalled of their brief one-on-one basketball on the patio of his penthouse.
Nevertheless, it would be hard to get around him.
Stop being such a wuss. You’re an adult. If he wants to give you a hard time, you can take it.
She squared her shoulders, a movement that did not seem to escape his notice. The guy saw everything, at least everything external.
“I take it you’ve never tried one,” he said.