Right on cue, she stiffened and shook her head, then scrambled off his lap. Kirkpatrick stood and tore off his condom, trying to zip up while reaching for her with an expression meant to be gentle and calm.
Thorpe snorted. Wrong approach again.
It didn’t surprise him at all when Callie whirled around, eyes squeezed shut tightly, arms over her br**sts, and ran—straight into him.
When she would have stumbled back from their collision, he gripped her shoulders. Thorpe tried not to look at her br**sts again. Why tempt himself with what he couldn’t have? She blinked up at him, fear and anguish mixed on her face. Guilt followed.
“Let go,” she begged. “Please.”
Those words alone told Thorpe how raw Kirkpatrick had scraped Callie. Normally, she’d try all kinds of foot stomping, demanding, and plain ol’ manipulation before she resorted to showing her soft, submissive side to anyone. Whatever the man’s game, Thorpe had to give Sean credit for opening her emotions far wider than expected.
Over her shoulders, he eased the robe he’d retrieved in case her second thoughts about having sex with the Scot set in. Nice to see that he still knew her so well.
He sent her a sharp shake of his head. “Not yet, pet.”
Callie shoved her arms through the holes and belted the robe tight, sending him a defiant glare. But tears still lurked under it. The f**king Scot playing with her heart had rattled her. Thorpe hated the ass**le for it even more. His need to protect her growled, chomping at the bit to tear the collar from her neck and free her. He couldn’t do that, but he had every intention of having a “chat” with Kirkpatrick.
“Why are your hands on Callie?” Sean demanded. “She’s my sub.”
“You’re under my roof, and she’s obviously upset.”
“Which is why I need to talk to her. She and I should be sorting this out. Alone.”
Normally, he would agree. But he wouldn’t risk Callie by leaving her vulnerable with a man he swore had some hidden agenda. A fraud. Besides, Kirkpatrick didn’t know her like he did and never would. “At Dominion, my word is law. Play by my rules or you’re welcome to leave. Your choice.”
Sean clenched his fists and ignored him, focusing on Callie. “Talk to me, lovely. If I upset you, help me understand why.”
Thorpe felt her stiffen in his grip, then she looked up at him, her gaze imploring. He understood instantly. She’d developed feelings for this man and hated to hurt him. But he also knew that she didn’t dare let him close.
“Callie, go to your room. I’ll be in to see you in a minute.” Thorpe motioned for Zeb, one of the dungeon monitors.
“You can’t send her from me. I didn’t hurt her,” Kirkpatrick protested.
With a shrug, Thorpe blew Sean off and addressed the approaching DM. “Take Callie to her room. No one enters until I say otherwise. And she doesn’t leave.” When Callie gasped, he sent her a knowing look. “Do you have something to say, pet?”
Since she wasn’t about to admit that she’d plotted to flee the club, she remained silent. But he knew it as sure as he knew himself. Kilpatrick hadn’t just plumbed her physically. He’d pried her heart open, and she was preparing to react to that in the only way she knew—by running. Already, she’d mentally packed her bags. Thorpe forced down his panic and reminded himself that as long as she was still here, he could fix the situation. The easiest solution would be to toss the damn Scot out on his ear.
Callie looked ready to grind her teeth as she stomped off. Zeb followed with a grin and a wink.
Thorpe vowed to deal with her little fit of pique as soon as he’d unmasked this fraud and rid him from her life. “My office. Now.”
He didn’t wait to see if Kirkpatrick followed. He’d rather the f**ker find the exit and save him the breath. But when he reached his personal domain and rounded his desk, the Scot stood in the portal, all but foaming at the mouth.
Sean slammed the door, enclosing them in a privacy steeped in thick air. “You have no right to separate me from Callie.”
“I’m responsible for the welfare of all the subs under this roof. Until I know why she was running away from you in tears, then yes, I do.”
“That’s a piss-poor excuse. You’re jealous because you want her for your own.”
Thorpe took his time answering, sitting in his leather chair and staring the charlatan down. Idly, he wondered when and how he’d been stupid enough to tip Sean off. Xander had pointed it out, too, a few months ago. Maybe he was getting sloppy.
“I have not laid a single finger on the girl for any reason in nearly two years. So what you believe I want is irrelevant. Let’s talk about what actually happened.”
Sean sat, poised on the edge of his chair as if he’d rather fight. “I restrained and blindfolded her, then I flogged her. She reached a peaceful subspace. Then when she came out, I made love to her. It’s been an emotional night. That’s all.”
Is that what the idiot thought? “That’s not how Callie works. Have you been too busy f**king her to get to know her?”
“You’ve watched me like you’re her bloody keeper, so I suspect you know that’s not true.” Kirkpatrick raised a brow at him. “Just like I suspect you’ve been too busy getting to know her to f**k her. Your knickers are in a twist now that you’ve lost your chance. Be warned. I mean to make her mine in every way.”