Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Sophie
“Do you know what a safe word is?”
“A…” My stomach plummets as I meet Lucian’s eyes.
Thanks to the conversation with Piper and my sleepless nights, I’ve been reading through websites about real-life BDSM dynamics.
But that doesn’t mean I want to discuss any of it with him. With them. It makes it too real.
Streetlamps flash past in rhythmic gold, slicing across the tinted windows and painting fleeting shadows over Lucian’s face where he sits across from me in the back of the SUV.
As his deep-blue eyes lock onto mine, my stomach plummets.
Next to me, Caleb’s knee is pressed firmly against mine. The solid muscle of his thigh is equal parts reassurance and unmistakable threat.
His voice low and measured, each syllable deliberate, Lucian repeats his question. “Do you know what a safe word is?”
The question lands like a stone dropped into still water, and meaning ripples through me, making my lungs tighten.
I meet his eyes again. This time, a streetlamp catches the sharp line of his jaw.
Caleb shifts beside me, his knee sliding a fraction higher along mine.
“Sophie?”
Hating this, I curl my fingers into my thighs, my nails pressing half-moons I can feel but not see.
Curling my fingernails in more deeply, I meet his probing gaze. “Why does it matter?”
Then…
Oh God.
Are they planning to take me to their club?
Earlier, Lucian sent me a text telling me to eat a light dinner and to wear one of my shortest dresses.
And before I had a chance to respond, telling him that I didn’t want to go anywhere, he added that they were delighted I chose a wedding dress.
Of course Randy informed him.
And the dress was stupidly expensive.
When I found out the price, I asked for a different selection, but Randy informed me that it was under the budget that Lucian had set. Even though I added shoes, a veil, and Piper’s dress.
I was left wondering how much he was willing to spend.
He leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees, the crisp white shirt stretching across his shoulders. The movement brings his scent—warm sandalwood and cold, calculating determination—all that much closer.
My cheeks burn, and I feel the flush spread downward.
The neckline of my dress suddenly feels too low, and the air-conditioning whispers over my heated skin.
After drawing a shaky breath, I admit the truth. “I’ve done some reading.”
Caleb’s mouth curves in the barest hint of satisfaction, the scar along his jaw tightening.
Lucian’s eyes warm fractionally, midnight-blue softening at the edges. “As we’d expect.”
His words wrap around me like velvet over steel, rich with approval that shouldn’t affect me but does, sending a treacherous flutter low in my abdomen.
“Tell us your understanding.” His voice is surprisingly gentle, coaxing even.
And suddenly I’m convinced that this version of Lucian is even more dangerous to me.
“A safe word is…” Oh God. I’d rather be anywhere having any other conversation.
Caleb brushes his fingers on the outside of my knee, a slow, mesmerizing stroke that sends sparks racing up my thigh. “Go on.”
Together, the two are impossible.
In the silence and flashing shadows, I look down and continue. “It’s a word or phrase agreed upon in advance that stops all play immediately. No questions, no hesitation. It’s for when something crosses a boundary—physical or emotional.”
Lucian nods. “Keep going.”
I go into my clinical mode, the one where I’m objectively analytical. “A lot of people use red for full stop and yellow for slow down. It signals withdrawal of consent.”
But with them, I’m anything but detached, even though I’m desperate to keep a wall between us.
I twist my hands in my lap, and Caleb traces my knuckles with his thumb.
His touch anchors me even as it heightens my awareness of the two of them as men.
I look at Lucian. “And what if I don’t want to play your little games at all?”
“You don’t have to.”
My shoulders relax in a way that makes me realize how much tension I’ve been holding in them. “I don’t have to?”
He grins, and it’s such an unusual occurrence that I gape at him.
“It’s our hope that you’ll want to participate in our lifestyle. But consent is just that. You will never be forced.”
His voice deepens on the last words, threading through me like warm silk. I can’t believe he’s offering a sliver of control back to me.
“We’re going to a club. We don’t have to participate, but it’s one thing to read about it, another to experience it.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“You don’t have to.” He lifts a shoulder. “But I would think you would like to know something about the men you’re marrying.” For a moment, he lets his words hang. “You can consider it research.”
My pulse is pounding so hard in my head that I can’t hear myself think.
Ever since Piper talked about it and the club she loves visiting, I have been curious.
Before I’ve fully formed an answer, the driver navigates onto a quieter stretch of road near Buffalo Bayou.
“Are you up for this?”
We stop in front of a nondescript white building that appears like it might be a warehouse. “Is this it?” I’ve seen the building a hundred times before, and I had no idea it housed a BDSM club.
Moments later, we’re all out of the vehicle, and Lucian is cupping my elbow. “Ready?” he asks.
I look at the building again.
It’s a warehouse. How scary could it be?