In the bright morning light, his forbidding features softened. Her approval apparently meant something to him, even outside of the dungeon. “Don’t know why you women wear fucked-up shoes that make your feet hurt.”
Not the words she usually heard from her slaves. Head on the armrest, Anne smiled at the ceiling. “Perhaps it’s because we enjoy the way you males stare at us when we do.” Her smile widened. “Considering Z gave you charge of determining whether a submissive’s footwear is sexy enough for the club or she goes barefoot, I’d say you already lost this argument.”
He snorted. “Point to you, Ma’am. And you do walk in them more gracefully than anyone I’ve ever seen.” His fingers pulled gently on her toes, a plucking motion that sang along her nerves all the way to her breasts. Those big hands of his were incredibly sexy. “You wore boots today though.”
“Can’t chase a fugitive if I’m wearing stilettos, although the heels do make an excellent weapon.”
He squeezed her foot painfully. “You go out to round up crooks at night?”
Z’s overprotective guard dog. “Yes, Ben. Picking up fugitives is easier when there are less people around and more people in bed.”
“Jesus,” he muttered. His measuring gaze was much like that of her parents, her brothers, and the cops at her station. All considered her too delicate, too pretty, too…female to deal with anything physically dangerous.
With a sour taste in her mouth, she swung her feet down and sat up. As she pulled on her boots, she let her disgusted silence fill the room, a talent that any Domme worth her whip could employ.
“Stepped in it, didn’t I,” he said. “I’m sorry, Anne. It’s a knee-jerk reaction.”
“Of course.” He was only being protective. He hadn’t said anything rude, simply acted like a typical male. Normally, she could ignore other peoples’ opinions, but Ben’s disapproval had hurt. “No problem.”
Her boots were on. She rose. Time to head home.
He reached up and yanked her down, right into his lap, arms tight around her.
Rigid with annoyance, she gave him a look.
His arms loosened, but he didn’t release her.
“Anne.”
“What?” He had the most beautiful brown eyes she’d ever seen—amber rays shooting out from the pupil, circled by a yellow line, then a darker brown ring. And those eyes showed repentance.
“I’d prefer your kicking my balls over the goal post to seeing you unhappy. Or pissed at me. Can you maybe forgive me instead of just saying the words?”
“Well.” He was right.
As she touched his lean cheek with her fingertips, she felt his pleasure so strongly that it was almost her own. “No submissive has reprimanded me and begged forgiveness in the same sentence. Quite interesting.”
“Interesting enough to win a kiss of absolution?”
This was not a man to be underestimated. Give him an inch and he’d take the entire county. And yet, the challenge in his gaze was so, so delightful.
She bent and kissed him.
Men had such different mouths. His lips were firm and competent, his tongue canny without being aggressive or sloppy. He tasted of the mocha coffee she’d made earlier—chocolate and coffee and man. Mmm.
All man. Yet, when she took control, holding his face between her hands, slanting her mouth for a deeper kiss, he didn’t move, simply accepted and made a sound of enjoyment.
An alpha male…except with her.
Under her buttocks, he lengthened and thickened.
What kind of a challenge would he present? Arousal seeped into her blood.
Farther away, a door opened and closed. Anne looked up.
Z came into the living room, a neutral gaze on her and Ben. Anne finally interpreted it as neither approval nor disapproval. He was reserving judgment. “Anne. Benjamin. Would you care to pay a visit to our new daughter?”
“Of course.” Anne stood, took Ben’s hand, and yanked him to his feet.
As they walked to the bedroom, Ben eyed her thoughtfully. “You pack a lot of muscle in that little body.”
He really was just begging to be hurt.
Z made a sound, far too much like a muffled laugh.
Men.
Jessica was propped up in the bed on pillows. In her arms, the sleeping baby was wrapped in a pink blanket.
“She looks just like Jessica.” Ben touched the baby’s fair-skinned cheek with a finger as big as the infant’s arm. “Sorry, Z, you lost out there.”
Z’s gaze was on his mate. “I can’t think of anything more perfect.”
Eyes filling, Jessica gave him a tremulous smile. After a second, she looked up at Anne. “Do you want to hold Miss Sophia Grayson?”