Chapter 1 #2
“You know. The books. Romance novels. I’ve been reading a lot of kinky ones since you asked if I wanted to come to the club with you after the wedding, to prepare. And that’s a big theme. People who have to be in control in their daily lives, they like giving up that control in the bedroom.”
Leave it to her to want to know the psychology of it all. “That is true for some people. Not me.”
“But why not you?”
“Naomi.” He let a hint of steel infuse his tone, amused when her pupils darkened in response.
Maybe the good doctor had a bit of a subbie side, after all, despite her… objections.
But she didn’t pout, the way some might at the rebuke, even gentle as it was. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll find someone else to satisfy my curiosity.”
She would, too, out of spite if nothing else. And then her brother, who happened to be the president of a local motorcycle club whose good side Killian was eager to stay on, would have his head on a platter. “I’m happy to answer your questions. But not tonight.”
For the first time since his arrival, she looked at him, really looked at him, and he was left as he often was with the uncomfortable feeling she saw him more clearly than he would like. “Tonight was really bad, wasn’t it? Worse than usual.”
“Yes. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough. But you did stand me up, so you owe me one, Irish.”
Because he did indeed owe her, he didn’t bother to sigh.
“A guest pass for a demo night at the club, where you can observe and question and learn until your heart’s content.
I’ll even see if Tara can make time to give you some more hands-on experience, if you find something you’re interested in.
” He let his lips curl up. “She has a deft hand with ropes.”
A deeper curiosity, the kind borne of personal rather than educational interest, lit Naomi’s eyes. “Tara?”
“Our head bartender. Tiny little thing, but don’t let that fool you. I’ve seen her put men three times your size on their knees.”
“She sounds fascinating. It’s a deal.”
“Hey! Master C!”
Biting back a groan, he turned as Titania Anderson, wife of one of the co-owners of Club BDE and a constant pain in Killian’s ass, sidled up to him, a mischievous grin stretched across her face. “Tania. What a… pleasant surprise.”
Titania snorted out a laugh. “Pleasant. Right.” She tilted her head to the side, giving him and then Naomi an appraising look. “Missed you at the wedding. And the reception. But now… here you are.”
“Here I am, indeed.” And that was all the explanation he was willing to give a woman who had hitched herself to not just one, but two ex-cops who’d love nothing more than to see him rot behind bars.
“Tania, we’re supposed to be celebrating.” Emily Elliott, yet another of Braden’s sisters-in-law, offered up her shy smile as she laid a hand on Titania’s arm. “Can we have a truce, just for one evening?”
Titania pouted, but even she wasn’t immune to Emily’s calm sweetness. “One night, Master C. That’s all you get. Come on, we’re over here in the corner.”
At Emily’s urging, Titania turned, and Emily offered him a smile and a roll of her eyes as she ushered her sister-in-law back to their table.
“Master C?” Naomi asked, her lips twitching with obvious amusement.
“C for Cinnamon Roll. Honor a promise to a friend and suddenly everyone thinks I’m a soft touch,” he muttered. Not that he truly minded, as he did indeed have a soft spot for Braden’s family even if they didn’t all return the feeling, but a man had his reputation to consider.
The twitching of Naomi’s lips turned into a full-on grin. “Oh, I think I like her.”
“Of course you do. Brats of a feather tend to flock together.”
Despite his dry tone—or perhaps because of it—Naomi tossed her head back and laughed, loud and bright.
But not the same laughter he’d heard in the pit, which was a relief.
That laugh was still an echo in his mind, one he’d been trying to ignore since he’d chosen the bar over the pit.
Discovering Dr. Winters was the owner of that laugh would have resulted in far too many complications for his comfort.
And complicated was the last damn thing he needed.
Putting the haunting laughter out of his mind, he guided Naomi over to a corner booth where Emily and Titania were cozied up with their husbands.
“Gentlemen,” Killian said with a nod for all three men.
“This is Dr. Naomi Winters, my date for the wedding. Naomi, the two with the matching gray in their beards are Damian and Desmond, Braden’s brothers.
Emily belongs to the slightly less grumpy looking one, Damian.
Titania belongs to Desmond and Sebastian. ”
“And you said they weren’t property,” Naomi muttered, making his palm positively itch to spank some manners into her.
“Behave yourself, Dr. Winters,” he said instead.
Lifting her hand to her brow, she gave him a snappy salute. “Yes, Sir.”
Cheeky brat. It really was a shame she wasn’t interested in him that way. They could have had some fun together.
“I like her,” Titania declared, practically beaming at them. “About time you found someone to keep you in line, Master C.”
“Indeed,” he drawled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her.
From their seats on the other side of the table, Desmond and Bastian eyed him with the same wariness they’d regarded him with for as long as he’d been a member of the club.
While Braden had warmed to him over the past couple of years, the same couldn’t be said of the detectives.
“O’Rourke.” Desmond’s greeting was stilted, stiff as always.
It gave him an itch between his shoulder blades, one he never could quite scratch.
As much as he enjoyed poking them, he hated the constant reminder that even here, he would always be on the outside.
They’d take his monthly fee, let him spend his money on food and drink, but they’d never fully welcome him into the fold.
Even Braden, a man he now considered like a brother, still kept him a bit at arm’s length when it came to his family.
Annoyed, with himself and with them, he turned to Naomi and offered up another smile of apology. “It seems I’m more tired than I realized. We should catch up later, have a drink.”
“Oh.” Disappointment flickered in her eyes. “I was hoping we could go down to the pit.”
“Another night.”
“You can come with us.” Emily turned her head, looking up at her husband. “Can’t she, Daddy? We were planning to go down in a bit anyway.”
Damian hesitated, his gaze shifting to Killian. “If it’s all right with Master O.”
Beside him, Naomi snorted, then lost the battle and doubled over with laughter. “Master O? What, are you the Master of Orgasms or something?”
“O, for O’Rourke.” He let a small smile curve his lips. “But the other interpretation isn’t far off. And Naomi isn’t… We aren’t together, that way.”
“We definitely are not.” One corner of Naomi’s mouth kicked up in a smirk. “Cordelia is much more my type, though she seems to have her hands full.”
“In that case, you’re welcome to come and observe,” Damian said with a crooked smile of his own. “And if you ask nicely, Cordelia might even give you a personal demonstration.”
“Really?” Despite her earlier judgments, Naomi perked up at that bit of news. “I am here to learn. Lead the way!”
“I really, really like her.” Slipping out of the booth, Titania hooked her arm with Naomi’s and tugged her along toward the stairs.
Another little prickle of guilt jabbed at his stomach as he watched her go, but he tried to ignore it. He really wasn’t in the right headspace to play host, and Naomi was perfectly safe with the Elliotts. They might be thorns in his side, but they’d take care of her.
Still…
Reaching out, he snagged Desmond’s arm as he passed. “Naomi may not be mine, but she is still very much under my protection.”
Translation: I will hunt you down and rip you apart piece by piece if anything happens to her.
Clearly, he didn’t need to translate, judging by the twist of Desmond’s lips and the single, sharp nod he gave in response. “Noted.”
“Thank you.”
He let go of Desmond’s arm, nodded to Bastian as the other man placed a proprietary hand at the small of his husband’s back, and watched them all disappear down the stairs.
As he turned to leave himself, he caught sight of the gleaming wood of the bar, and the bottles lined up neatly behind it. Braden kept his favorite whiskey well-stocked, and if anyone had earned themselves a drink that night, Killian figured it was him.
One drink. And then he’d be on his way.