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with me? My thighs reflexively clench. “Have you ever won?”
    “Both times I coached.”
    I bite my lip, curiosity freeing the words. “Which did you prefer?”
    “Being a participating Dom.”
    He says he’s good, but how can I take his word for it? He’s a stranger. “Yet you’re a good coach. Allegedly. So you’d be a great teacher.”
    “Very.” He crosses to a panel and punches a number into the keypad.
    A breathy voice answers. “Yes, Sir?”
    “Come in here.” He returns to his chair. “Sloane, if you want an unbiased opinion, you should cover your face so she doesn’t think you are Tessa.”
    I barely have time to put my hat back on and hide the lower part of my face behind my hand when the door opens and a gorgeous woman walks in and kneels at his feet even though there’s a third chair available. Unreal.
    “Sir?”
    He strokes her silky black hair. “Milena, please tell our guest here what The Games are.”
    “They are an opportunity of a lifetime for submissives to earn a place with us.”
    “How many times have I participated?”
    “Twice as a Dom. Twice as a coach. Once was as my coach.” Her eyes, one green, one brown flit to his lap.
    He smiles down at her. “Focus, please.”
    I clear my throat. “Would you mind leaving us alone for a private chat?”
    He stands. “Of course. Send Milena out when you’re satisfied.”
    I wait until he’s gone. “Are you here under duress?”
    “What?”
    “Against your will?”
    She laughs. “Oh, I know what you meant. But no.”
    “Please sit at the table. I hate looking down on you.”
    She moves to the chair but looks more uncomfortable sitting on it than when she was kneeling on the floor.
    I drum my fingers on the tabletop. “I’m having a hard time believing you’d be here voluntarily.”
    “I like it here.”
    “You can speak freely with me, Milena.”
    Her beauty isn’t marred by the scowl on her face. “I know.”
    Clearly she thinks she likes it here. I try another angle to make her open up. “Was he an okay coach for The Games?”
    “The best. You look familiar.”
    “You know my sister.”
    She squints, nodding after a moment. “I won because of him.”
    I pick up my drink. “So he coached you to a win and now what, you belong to him?”
    “I wish. I’d live in his bed if I could.”
    “Seriously?”
    Her hands trail over her collarbone. “Do you know what it’s like to go through life looking for a rush, a thrill, being able to have anything but finding nothing?”
    Yes. I’ve found that rush in war zones, in disaster areas, going after stories. Never in someone’s bed, not like she’s describing. Would it be like that for me, if I submitted to him? Is it like that for everyone in BDSM, or is it just that he’s a skilled lover?
    I want to feel that rush.
    No, I don’t. I want the story, the truth. “So, submission is the ultimate rush for you?”
    She smirks. “I look about ten years younger than I am. Outside of here I was a surgeon for years. I held peoples’ lives in my hands on a routine basis. Saving people, pulling them back from the clutches of death was a rush for me. Like I’d done something important. For a while.”
    “And you quit that for this?”
    Milena’s posture finally relaxes a bit. “No. I quit that and went to find myself, as they say. I was brought up in a wealthy, strict, conservative household where women were meant to make babies and plan meals for the chef to prepare. It infuriated my father and embarrassed my mother when I went to medical school.” Her eyes twinkle. “My way of rebelling. But soon it wasn’t enough. I traveled all over the world searching for the feelings I find in Sir’s arms. Extreme sports barely touch the rush his hands bring.”
    I tasted a sliver of that. My body craves more. “You love him then?” The tiniest twinge of jealousy tugs at me. Ridiculous.
    She laughs. “Not the way you’re thinking. He doesn’t go as far as I want him to, but