Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Let’s get you something to eat,” he says, crossing the room. He turns his back to me and goes to a little dorm-sized refrigerator that sits against one wall. Last night, I was overwhelmed and sick and I didn’t really get a chance to look at the room like I do now. The bed is at the center, massive and comfortable. I look to the head and notice the posts with rings attached. My pulse quickens.
The bathroom is off to the left, and beside the bathroom door is the fridge, a small, circular table, and several cabinets. At the foot of the bed lies a chest, and beyond that, a comfortable sitting area with a small table with a glass top and a cabinet. I want to take a closer look.
“Chandra.”
His stern voice arrests my attention. I blink up at him in surprise.
“I asked you a question,” he says, blue eyes trained on me.
He’s a member of a BDSM club and a dominant. My pulse races and I swallow hard, twisting my hair in my hands. I have so many questions for him.
“Yes?” I say, my voice little more than a breathy whisper.
He raises a stern brow. “How are you feeling?”
My heart aches, and there’s a lump in my throat that won’t go away, but that’s not what he wants to know.
“I’m good,” I say softly, looking away. “My stomach is fine now.”
He’s scowling but gives me an approving nod. “We’re stuck here and can’t get food anywhere else, but I’ve got some stuff that’ll hold us over. I know Tobias has a few things on hand, too, so why don’t we go foraging.”
“Are you a dom at this club?” My words come out before I can stop them. He swings his gaze to mine, eyes narrowed, while he shakes his head.
“Babe, I’m talking about food, not role playing at a BDSM club.”
Babe? My heart pitter patters. Role playing? It never was a role for Noah.
“Okay,” I say stupidly, not knowing what else to say.
“Listen,” he says. “After we eat something, you can ask whatever you want, okay?”
“Can you, um, turn away so I can get dressed?”
He nods and turns while I slip back into my dress. Then I slide my legs out of bed, bend down, and quickly make the bed. Then I run my hand through my hair and straighten out my clothes. When I turn to him, he’s smirking.
“Need a broom? Want to give the floor a good sweep before we go?”
I stick my tongue out on instinct. His laughing eyes sober, and he shakes his head. “Still a brat.”
“Still bossy,” I quip.
He laughs but it’s a little sad. “Honey, you have no idea,” he says softly.
I turn away from him so he can’t see the way he makes my cheeks flush. I use the bathroom and freshen up as best I can. I need a change of clothes, but he at least has a new toothbrush and travel-sized deodorant for me. I try not to think about why he has those things.
And then he’s through the door and walking so quickly I need to practically run to catch up.
“Where are we going?” I ask
“Break room.”
“I want to see the dungeon,” I push, catching up to him. “Maybe I came to Club Verge for more than the excellent drinks and companionship. Has that occurred to you?”
I don’t know why I’m being so difficult. He wasn’t even arguing with me. He merely cuts his eyes to me. “Many things have occurred to me. And we’ll address those things. First, we get food and I get in touch with Tobias. I check the forecast.” He raises a brow. “And you’ll behave yourself in the meantime.”
I remember his palm smacking my ass the night before. I just nod.
I must be crazy. I never behave this way. What is it about him that makes the brat in me surface?
We cross through the bar area and head to a small room I didn’t see before. It looked like a closet or something, but when he opens it, it’s a break room of sorts. It’s near Tobias’ office. He ushers me in. There are two large vending machines here. One has beverages, the second snacks. There’s a small circular table and four chairs, and counters behind the chairs.
“Looks like a regular office break room,” I say with a smile.
“DM’s often spend hours here,” he says. “We sometimes get takeout, but there isn’t always a lot of time. So, we have a break room and Tobias keeps it well stocked.”
My stomach rumbles with hunger. I clutch it, and Noah—Axle—just smiles. He takes out a card and runs it through a slot on the machine then pushes a button and a drink slides to the bottom. He takes it out and hands it to me.
“Thanks,” I say. It’s orange juice. Cute.