The Exhibitionist (The Submissive 7)

But Jeff was nodding and Daniel’s head was tilted in thought.

I looked once more to the couple bonding over the bundle of fur. The tentative submissive who’d stood up to someone intimidating in order to calm a kitten. And the man I knew to be ruthless who’d looked on her with kindness and a hint of something more.

“He’ll break her,” I whispered.

Nathaniel shook his head. “She’ll heal them both.”

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She was going to have to book an extended session with her therapist.

Sasha Blake closed her eyes and tried to take deep cleansing breaths like she’d been told to do when the familiar panic started to take over. But the sharp claws of fear and dread grabbed onto her chest and the simple act of inhaling took more strength than necessary.

“Sasha?” Nathaniel asked. “Are you okay?”

She cracked one eye open. The Dominant in charge of running the meeting looked at her with concern. She focused on him and did her best to ignore everything and everyone else.

“Yes, Master West,” she said. “I’m fine.”

Fine. Her pat reply to everything. She was fine. Work was fine. Her back was fine. And being told the Partners in Play senior members had decided she could rejoin the BDSM group after a retraining with Cole Johnson?

Abso-freaking-fine.

She was sitting in a small room off to the side of Daniel Covington’s playroom, where group meetings were held. Only the senior members were present, which meant there were only about ten people sitting around the oval table at the moment.

The side of her face tingled as if someone was staring at her and she slipped her hands under her thighs to keep from rubbing the spot. She used more discipline than what should be necessary to keep her gaze directed on Nathaniel and not to let it wander just a touch to the right where he sat.

Items numbered one through five hundred twelve to discuss with her therapist: Cole Johnson.

Based on conversations she’d had recently with Nathaniel, his wife, Abby, and her own best friend, Julie, and Julie’s Dominant, Daniel, she’d expected to be offered a retraining. She’d even looked forward to it: experiencing the thrill of letting someone else take over, rediscovering the peace that came when she knew her Dom would do anything to protect her and—she wasn’t even going to pretend otherwise—having earth-shattering orgasms.

It’d not once crossed her mind—not even in her wildest, craziest, never-gonna-happen-might-as-well-fantasize-about-it dreams—that the group would pick him.

Cole.

Sasha shivered just thinking his name. An alien spaceship must have transported her to an alternate universe because that was how hard it was to believe Cole was going to retrain her. He was an altogether intriguing man, one who had quickly captured her attention. But though he was usually laid-back and easygoing, talk among the group’s submissives pointed toward a hard and unyielding Dominant in the playroom.

She didn’t have to glance to Nathaniel’s right to know who she’d find watching her. She pictured him all too clearly in her head. Dark tousled hair, devilish blue-green eyes, and a body that seductively hinted at sexual pleasure with every carefully controlled move. And then he’d speak in that oh-so-smooth British accent.

Yes, she’d call her therapist tomorrow.

“Are you okay?”

Sasha jumped at the sound of her friend Dena’s whisper.

“I’m fine,” she said, repeating the same lie she’d told Nathaniel.

Dena narrowed her eyes in disbelief. “Hmm.”

But Sasha was stopped from saying anything further by Nathaniel dismissing the meeting. Perfect. If she moved quickly enough, she could probably be on her way without having to talk about anything.

Unfortunately, Dena was onto Sasha’s ploy and grabbed her arm before she could get away. “Not so fast. I want to talk. It’s been a long night for you. How do you feel about Master Johnson?”

Sasha’s body shook a bit. She had to leave before the panic came back. But Dena looked determined and she wouldn’t let her leave that easily.

“Conflicted.” Sasha took a deep breath. “He’s not who I imagined would be suggested.” She didn’t add that he was the very last person she imagined would be suggested. She narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute. You’re a senior group member. Did you know?”

“No, I excused myself when the topic came up for discussion. I knew I couldn’t be objective.”

“And Jeff?”

“Yes, I’m sure he knew.”

Sasha put her hand on her hip. She found it hard to believe Jeff, Dena’s husband, wouldn’t have told her, even if she’d excused herself from the discussion. Which made her wonder if Julie knew? After all, she lived with Daniel.

She turned to find the lady in question making a beeline toward her.

“I had a feeling that was going to happen,” Julie said. “Are you okay? If you don’t want Cole, I’ll—”

“Julie. Dena,” the smooth British accent she heard in her dreams said.

Sasha spun around and found Cole standing off to her side.

“Sasha.”

He spoke her name like a caress. Soft and gentle and tender but with an underlying strength that couldn’t be denied and with sensual promises woven in every vowel sound. She had an overwhelming desire to hear him say it again.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Damn it, this is why I should have left right when I stood up.