Chapter 3

The scents and sounds of sex surrounded Kenzie like a dark erotic haze. She clenched Royce's hand tightly as they wove through the maze of brocaded couches and past the imposing yet elegant drink bar. Kenzie stumbled as she noticed a woman clad only in expensive-looking lingerie who lay stretched lengthwise down the bar on her back. The bartender placed a row of shot glasses on the woman's torso, then retrieved a bottle of whiskey from the back of the bar and began to pour into the glasses. Men in expensive suits watched the alcohol drip over the tops of the glasses and trickle down the woman's skin.

Oh God Kenzie pictured herself as that woman, every man's gaze on her bare body as she lay there exposed, whiskey dripping down her body. Would one of the men lick it off? Taste the alcohol on her skin and lose himself in her body? A shiver rolled through Kenzie, but it wasn't one of disgust. It intrigued her in ways she didn't have words to express. She wanted to experience that. Wanted it so bad it hurt.

The overwhelming decadence and carnality of the room was intense. Whispered sighs and the slap of leather on flesh were punctuated by the occasional gasp and shout of pain and pleasure blurring together. Men and women were bent over leather benches while Doms stood behind them, wielding paddles. A man was strapped to a Saint Andrew's cross, while a female dominant stroked the strands of a flogger along the corded muscles of one of his biceps. Submissives sat beside couches, leather collars tied with silver chains around their throats, keeping them close to their masters. It was everything Kenzie had read about in her romance novels, an erotic playground that was too decadent to be real. Yet here it was.

So this was Royce's dark paradise. She never would have imagined he'd be into something like this, but now that she was here, seeing it for herself, she could picture him here every Saturday night.

Women in sexy lingerie walked with smooth confidence throughout the room. They were nothing like her. She'd never felt so out of place in her life, and that scared the shit of out her. Her heartbeat pounded up against her eardrums. As freaked out as she was by everything she was seeingthe whips, the chains, the sexual indulgenceone thing at the back of her mind scared her more than anything: this place was turning her on.

Her body hummed at being in a place where her own fantasies could come true. She thought of the small leather cuffs she'd hidden in a box beneath her bed and what Royce might do with her if she gave them to him.

The one time she'd asked her last boyfriend to use them, he'd flipped out and dumped her the next day via text message. She'd felt like a freak, and he'd call her a girl whose "weird needs" he couldn't satisfy. The words had burned. She had gone into a funk and hadn't dated anyone since.

That had been four months ago. Since then, she'd buried herself in her work and shoved the leather cuffs deeper into the recesses of her bed, trying to forget they were there. She wished she could embrace this dark world tonight, lose herself in this land of sexual fantasy, but she couldn't. She had to talk to Royce.

He led her into a hallway with a series of heavy wood doors that each had a silver letter to identify them. She had only a few moments to appreciate the beautiful hallway with its gilt sconces and elegant artwork between the doors before Royce pulled her into the first door on the left. She halted when she saw massive black wood bed in the center. The fantasies she'd been indulging in seconds ago ground to a halt as she the reality of this moment hit her.

She'd followed her professor into a sex club and was now alone with him in a secluded room with a bed. He was staring at her, that all too sexy man, with his jeans just tight enough and a shirt that looked like it had been painted onto his body. Concern darkened his brown eyes. In that moment, all she wanted was him, and that was dangerous.

"What" She swallowed hard. She hadn't come here to break her vow of staying away from him. No, she couldn't. They couldn't.

"Relax, Kenzie, it's just a bed. We needed some privacy, and the rooms here are as private as they get. Sit down and tell me what happened."

His hands touched her shoulders, gently easing her toward the bed. She collapsed onto the black velvet coverlet and saw him go to a dresser. She stared at Royce's nice tight ass in his jeans as he opened the top drawer. She sighed. What she wouldn't give in that moment to be just a girl and not his TA. They could have been on this bed together, exploring every desire she'd kept bottled up inside for years. Trying to distract herself, she focused on the room and not him.

So this is a sex room. She looked around at the walls. There were metal rings and hooks, half hidden by the expensive decor. Like a medieval torture chamber designed by Hugo Boss. Kenzie was fascinated, not afraid.

When Royce turned around, he had a small first-aid kit in his hands. He sat on the bed beside her and dug through the kit for antiseptic pads and Band-Aids. He tore open a package and lifted her injured leg on the bed. Blood oozed from a cut on her knee where her jeans had been torn during the fall from the office window.

"This may sting," he warned.

The cloth did sting as he wiped away the blood and dirt. Kenzie bit her lip, holding the hiss of pain inside. The last thing she wanted was for him to see how much pain she was in. He applied a Band-Aid to her cut, then cupped her chin and tilted her head back so she had to look up into his warm brown eyes.

How could a man who had such a dark side be socompassionate? But then, wasn't that how true Doms were? In the romance novels she'd read, they were strong, sexy as hell. Men who fucked a woman until she couldn't walk. But then they also cared for her as if she were the most precious thing on earth.

Kenzie wanted that, wanted it so damn much. And he can't give it to me, even if I wanted him to. She'd worked too hard to let one mind-blowing night of sex cost her everything. It could put her doctoral candidacy at risk. All the work she'd done with Royce would be tainted by an inappropriate relationship, and the committee in the paleontology department could refuse to grant her PhD. Ten years' worth of work would go up in smoke. It wasn't as though she could start over. An inappropriate relationship with her mentoring professor would follow her to any other university. It was a career ender. It could also create chauvinistic and sexist expectations from men she might work with in future jobs.

"Tell me what happened." His tone was soft, but there was a strength of command in it that she couldn't ignore.

She swallowed and nodded. "I was in your office, uploading the exam scores to your database." She licked her lips, wincing at the sting of a cut she hadn't realized was there. "Two men broke into your office while I was there."

Shadows flashed across his eyes, and a strange intensity masked his features, shocking her. She was used to the calm and cool professor, the demeanor he carried through the working day, interacting with her and the students. She had even glimpsed that playboy charmer side of hiswhen he picked up calls from various women as she worked, unseen, next to him. But this? This was something altogether new and a little scary. He looked as though he would burn the world to ash in vengeance, and more importantly, that he had the power to do it.

"And?"

"They were looking for you, Dr. Devereaux. They grabbed me before I could get away. One hit me a few times." She reached up to touch the aching spot on her cheek and winced. That was going to leave a nasty bruise.

Royce continued to watch her, so she went on. "I tricked one into looking for you in the teachers' lounge. When the second guy wasn't looking, I climbed out the window behind your desk."

"What? That's a second-story window."

Remembering that fall made her cringe all over. "Yeah. One hell of a drop. It's how I got so banged up. I'm just glad I had my car keys in my jeans and not my purse. I drove straight here."

"Why didn't you go to the police? Or go home?"

A flush of heat infused her cheeks. "I thought they might have checked my wallet. It has my driver's license in there, with my apartment address on it."

A frown marred his beautiful face. "You should've gone to the police." He disposed of the cleansing wipes and Band-Aid wrappings. She bit her lip to keep from snapping at him.

"They said something about having an inside connection in the police department. I didn't want them finding me. And they seemed to want to talk to you about illegal trafficking. I didn't want to get you into the middle of something" She let the words die as he faced her.

He leaned back against the dresser, his palms curved over the edge of the wood by his hips. His shirt hugged his abs, hinting at the six-pack beneath. It was a good thing he only dressed like that on Fridays and weekends. Most days he rocked a three-piece suit, which was sexy in a completely different way. More than once she'd imagined going into his office and asking to be bent over his desk for a spanking. It didn't matter what he wore in her fantasies, but somehow the T-shirt and jeans made him feel more real, like she could really lose control and beg him to take her.

Man, I have some serious issues.

"Illegal trafficking?" he mused. "I have no idea what they're talking about."

"Dr. Devereaux, I'm afraid to go back to my apartment."

His gaze softened, and he smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'll take you somewhere safe tonight."

Kenzie lowered her bandaged leg over the side of the bed, wondering if he was referring to a safehouse or something. "Where?"

"My home."

She opened her mouth to protest, but that fierce look was in his eyes again, the one that made her all fluttery and a little scared at the same time. It was a commanding look, but it didn't frighten her.

"Until I figure out what's going on, I want you near me. You'll have to trust me when I say that I've been in situations like this before. Allow me to protect you. Understood?"

What could she say besides yes? Guns, trafficking, and bad guys were way out of her depth. She nodded at him.

"Good. Now, let's get you out of here. The quicker we figure this out, the better." He held out his hand again. Part of Kenzie felt she should keep her distance, but she wasn't sure she could walk through a sex club without holding on to him. It would be like Alice tumbling through the rabbit hole.

They left the bedroom and walked back through the club. The woman on the bar was still lying there, but her lingerie was gone and a man now had a hand between her thighs as he drank directly from a bottle of scotch. His fingers were playing with the woman, inserting slowly, withdrawing, toying with her, and she moaned on the counter until he set the bottle down and gave her thigh a little smack. She gasped and attempted to hold still as he resumed his teasing touches.

"Jesus." Kenzie clenched her fingers around Royce's hand as they walked by. Royce slowed and glanced down at her, then at the woman on the counter. He didn't say a wordthen again, he didn't have to. She knew her face had to be fire-truck red, and she kept licking her lips. She was intrigued and a little aroused. She couldn't stop looking. And the devilish grin growing on Royce's lips told her he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling.

"Can we go?" she begged him in a whisper.

He chuckled as they reached the door. "Kenzie, you are a delight. Just when I think I have you figured out, you manage to surprise me."

A delight? What the hell did that mean?