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smaller hand with little effort.
    The very idea was ridiculous. Of course one of Kennedy’s trusted agents wouldn’t break my hand. But Dex’s hold was firm, his fingers wrapping around mine with smooth confidence as he began tugging me away from the scene we’d been watching.
    He’s not going to hurt me, I reassured myself.
    I suppressed a derisive snort. Yeah, he’s just going to tie me up and whip me. That won’t hurt one bit.
    “Don’t worry, little one,” he said gently, reading my tension. “I’ll respect your limits.”
    I looked up into his pale eyes. There was warmth in them that belied their ice blue hue. The way the lights played over his white-blond hair made him appear almost angelic. Then again, intimidating shadows pooled beneath his defined cheekbones, throwing the strong lines of his face into sharp relief. Maybe a fallen angel was a more apt comparison.
    “I’m not into extreme pain,” I asserted with as much confidence as I could muster. This was just a scene, the same as any of my other hands-on research. I dictated the terms. I was fully in control of the situation. I was perfectly comfortable with physical contact under these conditions. “What Master Jason was doing works for me,” I informed him. “Nothing more hardcore than that.”
    A single blond brow rose. “I’m sure I can handle you just fine.”
    My stomach did a funny flip, and I lifted my chin. “I want to recreate the scene. I don’t want you to handle me .”
    He shook his head and turned his attention toward our destination: a long corridor illuminated by low red lighting. Doors lined the right side of the hall, with one set into the very end. We passed all of them, making our way to the final door, which was slightly ajar.
    “These are the private rooms,” Dex supplied. “I’m glad this one isn’t occupied.”
    “Why?” I asked as he pushed the door open and escorted me across the threshold.
    “I think it will suit my purposes.”
    I swallowed hard as I took in the dungeon-themed room, complete with stone wall façade and chains hanging from the ceiling, along with more Medieval-looking bondage devices. The door thudded shut behind me, and I jolted, whirling to face Dex. He watched me carefully, his pale eyes studying me.
    I took a step back. He mirrored my movement, remaining in my personal space, towering over me.
    I took a calming breath, doing my best to disregard his sheer enormity. “I’m okay with the scenario we just watched,” I said in my most composed voice. “Hands cuffed above me, spreader bar, crop. I’ll take off my skirt, but my corset stays on.”
    The corners of his lips twitched. I wasn’t sure if he was suppressing a smile or a frown. His expression was difficult to read, his strong features shifting slightly before finally settling into a determined mask.
    I took another step back. He followed.
    “This won’t work if you run from me,” he pointed out. “Setting up the scene will require some physical contact. Unless you want to chain yourself up and spread your legs wide for me?”
    The picture he painted was ridiculous, and he knew it. He was trying to embarrass me. Maybe he wasn’t used to interacting with a confident partner, but that was his problem. This wasn’t about a power exchange; it was simply a means to learn the necessary physical sensations to describe my scene in lurid detail for my book.
    “No,” I said coolly, squaring my shoulders. “You can do that part. You can touch me to set things up, but I don’t want your hands on me otherwise. No touching my sex.”
    “Your sex ? Is that what you call it?” This time, he was definitely suppressing a smile, and a mocking one at that. I didn’t appreciate it.
    “Yes. Is that a problem?” I didn’t intend to engage in the kind of dirty talk I used in my books. This wasn’t meant to be a sexual experience.
    “Not at all. Don’t worry. My hands won’t go anywhere near your pussy. Not even if you beg me.”
    I