Chains and Canes Read Online Free PDF Page B

support. But that didn’t feel entirely right, and Daniel wasn’t one for self-deception. In this case, he wasn’t lying to himself. He couldn’t lie because he had no answers. Only questions. Remy intrigued him in ways that left him unusually dizzy and very eager.
    Focusing on that eagerness, he couldn’t wait to see him stand behind Naya. Despite that lean build, Remy had the potential to give her everything she wanted. They’d be a damn BDSM tableau. If Daniel had a speck of artistic ability, he would try to photograph them. He’d never possessed any aesthetic talent beyond recognizing when art was damn good.
    Of course, he could also see when an artist needed guidance and focus. He was good at that. Sometimes it was all he had to assure himself he wasn’t an evil director of a corporate machine.
    “There are rules,” he said.
    Remy’s mouth bent into a smirk. “There always are.”
    Daniel let his hands go where they wished, coasting over Naya’s soft, resilient curves. Her pulse pounded through the thin skin at the line between her stomach and ribs. She was breathing fast and shallow. He was as well, which was surprising. Her hand folded over his, but she didn’t stop his exploration. Every movement reassured them both.
    They were skating over fine, clear ice.
    “Naya’s safe word is red.”
    “My, oh my. Safe words and everything.” Remy rubbed a thumb over the edge of the belt wrapped around his hand. Even that small twitch made his carved biceps shift all the way up to the shoulder decorated by a circular black tattoo. He lowered his arrogant chin, his expression filled with mirth. “Did you two learn that from a naughty book? Maybe one with a black-and-white cover?”
    Daniel chuckled. He hadn’t expected to like Remy’s dry sense of humor. It should’ve been enough to see the liquid way he moved, as if he were the personification of dance, even off the stage. Just like Naya. The bonus was a whipcord-fast mind and bitingly incisive observations.
    “No,” Daniel said. “We’ve been at this a while. You’ll see.”
    If he were a different man, he would’ve jerked Naya’s thick hair and forced her to her knees in a deliberate echo of Remy’s backstage behavior. The problem was that he wasn’t that man. The right moves occurred to him, knowing intimately what Naya craved…but it wasn’t in him to bring her down.
    Remy didn’t have that problem. At all. “On your knees, hands behind your neck. Present your pretty self to me.”
    Daniel’s stomach flipped with a surge of excitement. Naya dropped. Her knees spread to shoulder width apart, toes together behind her ass. She lifted her elbows, which dragged the T-shirt up to display her flat stomach. She buried her hands beneath the glossy fall of her hair.
    Unable to help himself, Daniel stepped back. He wasn’t supposed to be in that tableau, not when Remy loomed over Naya. The Cajun was a sinuous curve of muscle and tendon. His dark hair skimmed the back of his neck and stood up straight on top, as if he’d run his fingers through it before getting off the elevator.
    Naya’s gaze dropped to the renewable wood floors. The bamboo had been polished to such a shine that she’d be able to see them both watching her. She’d feed off that. Submissive and showoff together. The worst punishment a Domina had ever inflicted was ordering Naya to put her nose in the corner. The blonde had left her there for over twenty minutes.
    That unpleasant memory returned Daniel to the topic of rules. They’d learned so much as a couple, despite the fact Daniel had never lifted a hand to do her harm. “No blood play. No needles or permanent marks. Humiliation does nothing for her.”
    “There’s a difference between humiliation and being presented such a lovely gift.” Remy’s gaze roamed over her beautiful pose. Then he looked up and pinned Daniel with his magnetism. A simple silver bar pierced his right eyebrow, accentuating his eyes. Look at me, it