Exposed Exposed (Dom Nation #1) - E. Davies Page 0,9
there was only room for one pretty young Dominant at a time, and letting me in risked his chances of getting lucky after the second shift relieved him later.
Usually I charmed him—and usually I showed up impeccably dressed, with no reason to turn me away, so all I had to deal with was his attitude and not the weight of Brighton’s rules.
I sensed he wasn’t eagerly seizing the chance to turn me away, though. Some bouncers would have done that, at more pretentious places nearby. He was just commenting. My respect grew one tiny notch.
And I had no time to deal with this shit. As we spoke, Isaac went unchallenged, and the hurt in this man’s voice needed to be heard.
“Whoa,” Tony breathed.
I hadn’t even said a word. All I’d done was straighten up and level my best Dominant stare at Tony. I was used to showing people who I was in a single look: not their coffee boy in the boardroom, nor their sub in the darkroom.
Tony took a step back, like I’d drawn the metaphorical sword of justice I felt weighing down my hand. Still, he hadn’t moved aside from the doorway yet.
“We’re not staying,” I murmured, low. I didn’t need to add, You know me, and you know I’m supposed to be in my shop. I’m not just bringing a boy toy in for a fun time.
Tony swallowed once and nodded. “See that you don’t.” He grudgingly stepped to one side, his gaze following each of us as we walked in.
“Whoa,” Slate whispered behind me, his voice an echo of Tony’s, and while he couldn’t see me, I let myself smile.
Yeah. That’s what having a Dom around can do.
I was in charge. And it was intoxicating.
But before I made it out of the entryway, a hand closed tightly around my arm, dragging me to a halt. My body tingled with recognition like Slate’s biometrics were keyed into the alarm system in my brain.
“Yes?” I turned and looked pointedly down at the hand gripping me.
Slate didn’t let go. But seeing as he wasn’t my sub, I’d allow the misbehavior.
“No,” Slate said softly. “You can’t get off on this.”
I narrowed my gaze, trying to make sense of his words. “I’m not bringing you to the sling to fuck the sadness away,” I told him tartly. “Tony would make me get naked, and I don’t do that.”
“I mean,” Slate said, still squeezing my arm like it was the brake on a freight train and he was on the tracks ahead of me, “get off on… on… rescuing me.”
What? Indignation bloomed in my cheeks, and it cut a little too finely. Like he’d discovered a truth that even I hadn’t realized.
“Excuse us,” someone said behind me, which pissed me off.
Slate guided me to the side and stepped close, out of the way. He was closer than he’d ever been—too close, but not nearly enough at the same time.
The air between our bodies swelled, and so did my arousal. Sparks slid through my body, intoxicating and heady. I kept him at arm’s length, but only barely.
I glared until the intruders scuttled past and then returned my gaze to Slate. Those pale blue eyes were wide and pleading. His look melted the heat within me—the embarrassment of being caught out with a hero complex.
“That’s my call,” Slate said softly. “And I say no.”
I reeled on the spot. The last thing I’d expected from a shy, scared man who’d been used and left to crawl home on his own was these blazing fierce words. Even moments ago, he’d hardly been able to speak.
And now he was standing up to me?
“Reporting assaults… is critical,” I told him. “It’s not about me.” Okay, maybe it is, a little bit, I added mentally and winced. A white lie for the greater good. “It’s about everyone’s safety. The DMs will listen to you. Brighton, the club owner… I know him. He’ll listen, too,” I told him, my voice rippling as I swore by my honor. “The minute you speak up, he’ll be gone forever.”
Please listen, I begged him in my thoughts, even if I stayed cool and logical outwards. You have to listen.
“You don’t understand,” Slate hissed, upset creeping into his tone, and I stepped back like I’d been burned.
Hearing the rebuke in his words cut me to the bone more deeply than I could ever have imagined. I choked back the bile in my throat. “What don’t I understand?”