Chapter One 4 page

When their attention turned elsewhere, she gave a sigh of relief—one that was too noticeable, she understood, when Alex gave a quiet laugh and squeezed her shoulder.

His touch felt good. Too good. He watched her closely and touched her too easily. A slight tremor ran through her, and she edged away from him. He glanced down at her, focused on her a minute, then removed his hand.

And then she felt lonely. Frak.

As the subs stayed silent, the Doms discussed plans for the following week and upcoming events. When no waitress appeared, they designated two subs to fetch drinks. Then two of the Doms asked for Alex's opinion on a scene across the room, some sort of knife stuff that sounded appallingly bloody.

“All right,” Alex told them, then looked down at her. “MacKensie, do you want to see this?”

“I get to choose?” Wasn't he supposed to make all the decisions?

He smiled, his hand cupping her cheek. “I know you don't mind blood, but I don't know how you feel about one person deliberately cutting another.”

She shuddered. That didn't sound at all pleasant.

“And there's my answer.” Alex rose. “Remain here. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Not a problem. Just after he walked away, she realized she'd missed her chance to ask a vital question: where was the restroom? Her bladder felt like an overinflated balloon, and the tight skirt made it worse. She looked around. Two Doms, one Domme, and a handful of subs remained. The other subs wore clothing much like hers, although one was completely naked. Another wore only jeweled clamps on her nipples—ouch—with a chain running between them, and a very skimpy thong.

Mac shook her head in wonder. Apparently she'd gotten off lightly when Alex had chosen her outfit.

Clothing or not, she still had to pee. When a gorgeous brunette kneeling beside the adjacent chair looked over, Mac asked, “Are we allowed to go to the bathroom? I'm dying here.”

Expressionless, the brunette eyed Mac. Then she smiled slightly and pointed. “The restrooms are across the room. You should be able to get there and back before the Doms return.”

“Thanks.” After pushing to her feet, Mac hurried across the room, past two flogging scenes and one man touching some electrical thing to intimate places on his male sub. Looked painful as all get-out.

Once she'd used the toilet and managed to wiggle her skirt back into place, she retraced her steps, using the St. Andrew's cross as her heading.

Halfway there, a hefty Dom in battered leathers stopped her. “Brown top, red skirt, medium height, yellow-brown hair. You must be MacKensie.”

Mac blinked. “Um. Yes.”

“Good enough. I got your safe word and conditions.” He snapped a metal handcuff on her, whipped her around, and put one on the other wrist, just like in a cop show. And just like a show, he pushed her forward.

“Hey, let go!” Mac tried to jerk away, but he had a good grip on her and must have outweighed her by a good hundred pounds. She raised her voice. “I don't know you. Let go of me.” She kicked out at him without managing to hit anything vital, and suddenly the hand clamped around her arm felt like Arlene's. Dragging her to the closet.Helpless. Her hands chilled. “No no no!”

He cut off her screams by stuffing a rubber ball into her mouth, securing the elastic band behind her head. With her hands restrained, she couldn't fight, couldn't get it off.

“C'mon, little bitch. Time for punishment.” Letting go of her, he shoved her ahead of him toward a scene area that held a stockade-like thing.

Horror ran through her at the sight of the single hole in the board. Not designed to restrain a person's hands, but their neck. A short whip lay on the floor beside it. No nono. Whirling, she kicked out at the man and nailed his thigh.

He yelled and grabbed her arm, one huge hand raised. Turning her face away, she braced herself for the blow. For the pain.

Chapter Six

It never came.

“I believe we have a problem here.” Alex's voice. He had caught the man's wrist, held it frozen in the air.

Relief swirled through Mac so fast, her head spun. She tried to tug away.

The man gripped her arm tighter. “No problem, dude, except your interfering in my scene.” Her assailant yanked her out of Alex's reach.

“It may be your scene,” Alex said. “But that is my sub.”

“Hey, man, she came to me.” The bastard had the nerve to shake her shoulder as if to prove his point.

Mac shook her head frantically, tried to speak through the gag.

“She doesn't appear to agree.”

“Just part of the scene. She wanted a rape scene, set it up special. I didn't hear her using her safe word either.”

Alex's eyes on her were cold. Furious.

He believed the man. Oh please, no. She shook her head again, her eyes filling with tears. He'd leave her here, let her be hurt, and—

“Remove her gag,” Alex said. He glanced at an old man standing nearby, watching the show. “Find a dungeon monitor.”

“On his way already,” the old man said.

“Now listen, asshole—” The cruel-faced man dragged her farther from Alex.

“Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?” Another man wearing a bright orange vest over a black shirt frowned at the men.

“This little bitch set up a rape scene with me, and now this asshole says she's his sub and butted into my scene.”

The dungeon monitor raised his eyebrows. “Considering Alex is one of the founding members of this club, I have trouble believing that.” He jerked a chin at Mac. “Let's hear from the sub. Remove the cuffs and the gag.”

The bastard unlocked her cuffs. When he let her go to pocket them, Mac shoved him as hard as she could and ran straight for Alex. His arms closed around her, holding her to him. After a breath, she pulled the gag off and turned far enough to throw it at the man, then tried to burrow into Alex even farther. His scent of subtle, rich cologne and soap surrounded her, and his firm embrace held her against his solid body. She'd found her shelter.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let's have a seat and discuss this,” he said.

She stiffened, cold fear rising inside her. Clutching his arms, she stared up into his forbidding face. “Don't let him take me. Please, Alex, don't.” Now that she was free, an uncontrollable shaking started deep inside her. The feel of a fist hitting her jaw, the shock of being slapped, pain from… No. No memories. Not now. Her tears spilled over, and an ugly sobbing noise escaped. She put her hands over her mouth.

“Shhh, sweetheart.” Alex scooped her up in his arms and cuddled her to his chest as if she were a puppy. “No one is taking you anywhere. But I need to know what happened.”

She buried her face against his shoulder, unable to stop the violent shudders racking her body. A minute later he sat down on a couch, but he kept her in his lap, one arm fixed around her waist, one hand stroking her back. Her cheek rested against him, and she heard the slow thud of his heart, felt the easy rise and fall of his chest.

He wasn't worried. He could take care of this. Of her.

Footsteps. Then the dungeon monitor said, “Alex, this is Steel, and Steel says the sub's name is MacKensie. He asked her if that was her name.”

“Asked?” Alex questioned. “Why did you need to ask her name?”

“I wanted to make sure I had the right sub, and she was. Brown top, red skirt, yellow-brown hair, name of MacKensie.”

Alex's body tightened, and anger turned his voice to ice. “Then MacKensie didn't set this up with you. Someone else did.”

“Well, yeah. She wanted a stranger to grab her and whip her. That was the scenario. Wouldn't work if she knew me, now would it?”

Clutching Alex's shirt like a security blanket, Mac lifted her head to look at Steel. He had a perplexed look on his face as he ran his hand through shaggy hair.

The dungeon monitor scowled. “I'm getting a really bad feeling about this.” He looked at her, started to speak, and then frowned at Alex instead. “Permission to speak to your sub?”

“Of course.”

“Did you ask someone to set this up, MacKensie?”

She shook her head, her throat so tense, no words could escape.

“Well, fuck, look at her shake,” Steel muttered. “Are you telling me I grabbed the wrong person?”

“No,” Alex said softly. “I think this was a setup. Just not the one you'd planned.” He turned Mac in his arms until she faced him. When she tried to bury her head, he used a finger to raise her chin. “We need you to talk to us, little cat.” His eyes pinned her gaze to his. “I left you kneeling beside the chair. Why did you leave?”

She tried to swallow, but the spit stuck in her throat. Her grip tightened on his shirt, and she breathed in, trying to find the calm place inside herself, the one where she used to hide. Another breath. “I-I had to…bathroom.”

His lips curved, and his voice softened. “I have a bad habit of forgetting you women piss three times as often as men. So you went to the bathroom. Alone?”

“I thought I could get back before you returned.”

“How did you know where the bathroom is?”

“The other sub told me.”

“Describe her to me, MacKensie.” Alex's eyes had turned the color of polar ice.

“Brunette. Beautiful.” Mac closed her eyes, trying to remember. “Tall. She looks like a model. A dark red corset thing.”

“That who you talked with?” the dungeon monitor asked Steel.

“Nah. I'd remember someone like that.” Steel pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to the monitor. “A barmaid gave me this. It spells it all out. Even safe words and gestures. She didn't use either.”

The monitor glanced at Mac. “What's your safe word?”

Safe word? She looked up at Alex and whispered, “What's a safe word?”

“Fuck me,” Steel exploded. “How the hell can she not—”

“She's so new to the scene that she should be glowing green,” Alex said. “We haven't even done anything that would require a safe word.”

A noise came from Steel, a grating sound as his teeth clenched. “Did she—Did you—Hell. Permission to speak to your sub?”

Alex snorted. “Granted.”

When Steel leaned forward, Mac couldn't help but cringe back, her bare feet scrambling uselessly on the couch. Alex's arms tightened, trapping her on his lap.

Steel winced, and his face turned to concrete. “You didn't want this at all, did you?”

Mac shook her head as the shaking started again. She shoved her face in the hollow of Alex's shoulder.

“Girl, look at me.”

Silence. The men waited. For her.

Okay, Mac, show a few guts. Suck it up and handle it. Her fingers ached from her grip on Alex's shirt, but she managed to turn.

To her surprise, Steel looked more tired than terrifying as he said, “A safe word is a word not usually used in everyday talk, and if a sub uses it, everything stops. A gesture is used if the sub is gagged. If you'd used either, I'd have stopped. Right then.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Fuck. Since you didn't know about them, you wouldn't use them. I'm sorry, girl.”

He fished a card out of his pocket and handed it to the monitor. “If you catch the asshole who did this, I'll be pleased to do anything needed to take him down. Very pleased.” He handed one to Alex. “If there's anything I can do to help her or you, call me.”

Catch the asshole? Coldness ran up Mac's spine as everything began to make sense. Someone had set her up to be whipped. Why?

“You got any idea of who did this, Alex?” the monitor asked.

“Oh yes. The trouble is, there's no proof,” Alex growled. “But I know. A sub wants me—obsession-type want.”

The dungeon monitor frowned. “You were with Cynthia last time I saw you here. The society girl.”

Alex nodded.

“Hell.” The dungeon monitor glanced at the paper. “Drake's going to blow his stack when he hears about this. But he'll investigate up one side and down another. If the barmaid remembers anything… But they're so busy tonight, I'm not holding out much hope.”

“Do what you can. I'll do the same.”

Alex could barely control his rage as he carried MacKensie back to the group. He considered leaving immediately, but letting her flee the club would reinforce her fears, legitimate as they were. And she needed to face the real assailant.

Dammit. Although Cynthia should be arrested, no BDSM club welcomed publicity, and few members would volunteer to testify.

Alex settled in a chair, pulling Mac closer to him. He'd never felt such satisfaction as when she had hurtled herself into his arms, knowing he'd protect her.

Her shivering had disappeared once Steel left. Tough little sub—his jaw tensed—who had been hurt because of him.

“Sir?” One of the subs approached warily, her eyes wide.

Alex took a breath to smother the anger and gave her a smile.

The sub relaxed. “Sir, I have drinks for you and your sub.”

“Thank you.” Alex nodded to the table beside the arm of the chair. “Right there, please.”

The sub obeyed and trotted away. Alex handed Mac the gin and tonic he'd ordered earlier for her and picked up his scotch.

She sipped, blinked, and sipped again. “I haven't had one of these since college,” she said and actually smiled. Two more sips and she looked at him full in the face. “Thanks for the rescue. And for believing me.”

He nodded. Such big brown eyes. To see them filled with terror and tears had seared his heart. A ball of anger still burned deep inside him, one with no place to go.

“What are you going to do about her?” she asked quietly. She glanced at Cynthia, who knelt at Brian's feet two chairs down.

“If a witness turns up, we'll look at prosecution. I'm going to talk with the management here and at the other clubs. And with the Doms. She'll discover the BDSM world is smaller than she knows and a lot more unfriendly.” He stroked MacKensie's golden hair. “I'm sorry, MacKensie. Our lifestyle has many safeguards, but none that could prevent this kind of end run around them.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She leaned her head against him. The gesture, now, when she wasn't terrified, showed her trust in him had grown.

“Sir, permission to speak?”

Alex looked up at the sound of the smooth, rich voice. Cynthia knelt at his feet, eyes downcast. He knew she wouldn't incriminate herself; she was a very smart woman. But he'd see what she had to say. “Speak.”

“Master Bob said you've taken that sub on for training, but I can see that you are not intimate with her. I would be pleased to serve the needs that she can't.” Cynthia opened her corset, letting her full breasts spill out. Tall and slender and with those augmented breasts, Cynthia was a walking wet dream. And in his case, a walking nightmare.

Alex suppressed a growl. “I don't—”

Giving a tiny duplication of his growl, Mac glared at Cynthia. “He doesn't need you, you overbred cow; he has me.” And she grabbed his hand and shoved it between her legs.

Chapter Seven

“Well, now,” Alex murmured in a low rumble that sent nerves racing up Mac's arms.

Oh frak, what have I done? Mac froze, shocked at her own behavior.

Alex's lips curved, and then he gave Cynthia a dismissive look. “I'm more than adequately served. Leave.”

The sub jerked back as if Alex had slapped her. Mac almost laughed as Cynthia stalked away, rehooking her corset, heading toward the front of the club. Apparently the Dom she'd accompanied had left. Smart man.

Suddenly Alex's hand pressed against Mac's pussy. She jumped, her gaze shooting to his amused eyes. His hand felt huge between her thighs, and hot against her bare labia.

“If you keep rearranging our bargain,” he said, “I might not be able to keep up.”

“I…” Trapped by his blue gaze, she couldn't find the right words to say. I didn't want you to take her? I was jealous? I wanted to be mean? All of them were true. “But…”

His eyes crinkled. “You, little cat, do not have permission to speak.” He lifted his hand from the juncture between her legs. “And you're not ready to be played with down here…yet.” His fingers threaded through her hair, and he leaned forward, tipping her back against the arm of the chair. Her gasp opened her lips, but he didn't shove his tongue down her throat, didn't grab her breast.

Why hadn't he groped her down there? She'd sure given him the chance.

Instead his tongue traced over her lower lip in a teasing slide. Then the upper. His mouth brushed against her cheek, her chin, her neck; his lips were firm yet smooth. Not wet or sloppy at all.

When he returned to her mouth, he nibbled her lower lip, then sucked on it lightly. Slanting his mouth across hers, he kissed her, his tongue only caressing her lips, no further. He moved down her neck with tiny nips and licks and kisses. She shivered when he bit the muscle at the top of her shoulder, holding it between his teeth long enough to send goose bumps down her arms. Back up, ever so slowly, and this time when he took her lips, she opened to him, letting her tongue fence with his.

Never sloppy. He was even so careful that she wanted to push him a little. Her tongue slid into his mouth, and suddenly his hand fisted in her hair, holding her in place as he ravaged her mouth, the controlled violence shocking.

Exciting.

When he pulled back and licked over her lips, she took a deep breath. The air felt as if the temperature in the building had been raised too high. Then coolness wafted over her chest. She stiffened, looking down. Her bustier lay open, lacing undone, her breasts exposed.

Alex's arm felt like iron under her back, and that hand still held her hair. Held her trapped. Without taking his eyes from hers, he curved a big hand around her breast, his fingers hot against her skin. She inhaled sharply at the unexpectedly erotic sensations shooting through her as he caressed her. The surge of…of something inside her frightened her, and she grasped his wrist and ripped her gaze from his.

“Look at me, MacKensie,” he said, voice deepening. When her eyes returned to his, he smiled slightly. “Good girl. Now let go of me, or I'll restrain you.”

“You wouldn't.”

But his eyes didn't waver.

He would. She forced her fingers to release his wrist. “You promised. I'm not aroused,” she whispered. Fear curled inside her to join with the unsettling tension, and an odd temptation to let him continue, to have his hands…everywhere.

“You told Cynthia you'd take care of me,” he whispered back. “Can you tolerate another ten minutes of being fondled?”

She'd been an idiot to offer herself instead of Cynthia, but he hadn't asked her to do that. Her big mouth had run amok all by itself. Okay, ten minutes… What was another person groping her anyway? At least she liked him as opposed to the others. She managed a short nod.

When the sun lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled, and his eyes heated, a trickle of worry crept into her. What could he do in ten minutes with just his hands?

She found out exactly what he could do when his hand on her breast moved, and his fingers circled one nipple, then the other, grazing over the bumpy areolae to the jutting peaks. Peaks—her nipples were hard, and the room wasn't cold. Surely she couldn't be aroused.

His index finger circled one nub, around and around, until that nipple actually ached. He did the other, and the feeling was… His fingers closed on one rigid peak, rolling it gently, then giving it a small pinch that sent a stab of excitement through her body and seemed to awaken nerves in her pussy. A throbbing in her groin joined the throbbing in her nipples.

She swallowed a moan as he alternated between her breasts, back and forth, pressing the nipples hard, then harder, until each controlled pinch hurt and yet increased the burning hunger inside her. A moan escaped her.

Satisfaction glimmered in his eyes before he tightened the arm under her back, bringing her breasts up to his mouth. His lips closed on one swollen nipple, and she found out just what hot and wet really meant. His tongue swirled around the peak, and suddenly she could almost feel it swirling on her clit; and then he sucked, a gentle pull, then more forcefully. The other breast the same. And back, this time sucking, and suddenly, a slow, careful bite on the peak.

“Ahhhh!” Her fingers dug into his shoulders in shock as electrifying sparks shot through her. Had that sound come from her? She pushed against his chest, horrified. She never lost control like that; she was a—Oh God, she wasn't a whore. Not anymore. Shame washed through her, filling her until there remained no room for arousal.

He'd drawn back when she stiffened. His sharp eyes considered her face, then her hands and her breasts. “Why does being aroused scare you?” he asked softly.

She closed her eyes.

“No, look at me, little cat.”

She could feel his intense gaze on her, like warmth stroking over her face; she could feel how he waited for her compliance. Her hands in fists, she opened her eyes.

“Good girl.” His lips curved up in approval. “You told me you don't get aroused because of something in your past.”

He waited for her nod.

“Why did that something make you frightened of your own response?”

Because whores don't feel.Because johns don't care. Men paid for an available body, not a responsive one. Because losing track of surroundings was a way to get hurt. “I just don't like it.”

His eyes crinkled even as he shook his head. “You do like it, little cat. But you don't want to, because it scares you. There is a difference.” His warm hand stroked over her breast again, and she was horrified to feel her nipple pucker and poke into his palm. “What would happen if you didn't have any choice? If you couldn't push my hands away or keep me from continuing? You could only feel.”

The thought shut off her breathing for a second. Not have any control? Fear filled her even as heat seared through her veins, and her nipples tightened until they actually hurt.

He nodded as if she'd spoken. “Want and fear both. So how brave are you, little cat? Will you let me take you further?”

Her body urged for more. Her head said no, but she knew damned well that her head was screwed up. How brave was she? She didn't think her body would ever, ever be interested in sex again. Shouldn't she see…? But what if I panic? What if I don't? “All right,” she whispered.

God, how could that approving smile of his make her feel so good inside?

He stroked her cheek. “Brave little cat. Trust isn't easy for you, is it? Because you don't fully trust me, we'll stay here in public. The club safe word is 'red.' Do you understand what it's for?”

“Yes, but—”

“Yes, what?” He frowned at her, recalling her to his rules.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He rose to his feet with her still in his arms.

“Hey!” She wiggled. What was he going to do?

“You don't have permission to speak, little cat. You may use your safe word if you need to.” He walked across the room to a leather-covered table and laid her on it, then whipped a strap over her ribs to hold her in place. She'd thought he meant to control her by using his hands to hold her. Like he had been.

She struggled to sit up, and he pressed her shoulders down. “MacKensie. We have a deal. If you became aroused, I could continue, right?”

Heart pounding, she sucked in air as she stared up at him. His hands were warm on her shoulders, his eyes level. Patient. She had agreed. She gave him a short nod.

“And you agreed to submit to me, knowing what BDSM involved. You also agreed to continue a minute ago. Right?”

Oh God, she had agreed. Okay, okay. This was just part of BDSM, and he wasn't paying her. I'm not a whore, just someone doing kinky things. Kind of. She nodded again.

“Good.” He smiled slightly, cupping her cheek, then touched her lips lightly with his. “I'm going to restrain you, little cat, because your mind, for whatever reason, thinks you shouldn't do this and tells you to stop. But I'm not going to stop, and there will be nothing you can do about it.”

Even as he spoke, he pulled leather straps over her arms, her wrists. Then one across her hips over her skirt. To her shock, he flipped her skirt up and wrapped a Velcro cuff around her lower thigh. Bending her knee, he pushed her leg toward her shoulder and clipped the thigh cuff right beside her wrist. He did the same on the other side, and she lay on the table splayed open like a frog about to be cut up.

What was sexy about that? Yet the feeling of having her most intimate parts bared and vulnerable sent a shiver through her. She could see a few people around the edge of the scene area, watching.

Alex chuckled and rubbed his knuckles over her cheek, pulling her attention back to him. “Take a breath, sweetheart.”

She pulled in a deep breath.

His eyes were very blue and seemed to fill her whole vision. “Good.” He kissed her again, gently, lightly, coaxing her to respond. When she did, he pulled back, then ran his hands up and down her torso to the tender undersides of her breasts. To the nipples that had again started to pucker. When he sucked on the nipples, the tightness turned into a tingling ache of need.

Then she heard someone in the crowd laugh, turned her head, and saw their faces. She stiffened and made a useless attempt to move.

Alex lifted his head and studied her for a second. “Little cat, do you trust me not to leave you? Not for a second?”

Why was he asking her that? But he didn't say more. She bit her lip. Would he stay with her? Well, he'd saved her from that man and then held her. He hadn't abandoned her. She'd seen that he had his own code of honor. “Yes, Sir,” she said.

“Ah.” He smiled at her. “I like the trust I see growing. Now, I promise I won't hurt you while you're restrained here on the table. Do you trust me to keep my word?”

A whore learned to read people well. She usually knew when someone lied to her. He wasn't lying. “Yes, Sir.” She swallowed. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to take a little more control from you, MacKensie. I will ask you to keep your eyes closed.” From under the table, he lifted headphones. “You won't be able to see or hear, just to feel my hands on your body. My mouth on your pussy.”

Her breath hitched at the image.

“You have your safe word, little cat. Now close your eyes.” She did. When the earphones covered her ears, she heard the rhythmic sounds of the ocean: a low roar, then hissing. All she could hear was the ocean; all she could see was black. Had he left her? Her eyes popped open, and she looked right up into Alex's amused face. Like he knew she'd panic.

She caught a breath of Alex's rich aftershave just before his hand cupped her cheek, and he kissed her, gently, coaxing the response he knew she could give. After a minute, he lifted his head and touched her temple in an unspoken command.

Dammit, she wanted to be able to see.

He waited.

After giving him a glare that made his lips quirk, she closed her eyes.

His mouth covered hers again. As he toyed with her lips, nibbled on them, her anxiety diminished. And after a minute, many minutes, he moved. She had a second of panic. Then his hands touched her breasts, the feel of his slightly rough fingers already familiar. His lips closed around one nipple, his tongue hot against the sensitive tip as he sucked.

His mouth withdrew. Coolness over the wet nub, then…a pinching sensation. Not his fingers. The compression tightened right to the edge of pain and didn't loosen. A clamp. Like that other sub had worn. The steady pressure created a sizzling river of sensation between her breast and her groin. His hot mouth sucked on the other nipple, then the pressure again. The ache in her pussy increased.

His hand stroked down her stomach, trailing across the top of her skirt, then past and over her bare leg. He'd moved to the foot of the table, she realized, as his hands massaged her hips. When he stroked the exposed undersides of her thighs, it brought home how high and wide he'd parted her knees, leaving her open.

She tried to move her legs, and none of the straps gave, and the ocean rolled through the darkness as his hands moved closer to where she ached.

His hand pressed against her pussy for a second before stroking her thigh, leaving a wet trail in its wake. His silent way of showing that she was aroused, and he could continue. Oh frak, how could she want to run so badly and yet be so excited?

He returned to her pussy, a finger stroking through her folds. She kept waiting for groping, for his hand to rub her crotch as if sanding wood.

He didn't. Instead he used just a slickened fingertip, ever so slowly. Featherlight, it circled her clit, clockwise, then counterclockwise, never actually touching the aching nubbin of nerves. Her hips tried to push up, and the restraints held her completely still as his finger circled, then stroked down through her folds, making a figure eight, circling her opening, then up and around the increasingly sensitive nerves and back down in a rhythm that rolled through her like the ocean sounds rolled through her head.

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 859