“No, you’ve got the advantage on me,” he said with a gentle smile. He took her hand, ridiculously happy when she not only didn’t pull away but instead twined her fingers with his. “But I did read up a bit on the place.” He’d found some descriptions of the layout and the various levels of membership. And when he’d dug deeper, he’d recognized a few of the owners’ names. A few discreet calls later, and he’d learned that Jared Johns was a member. Considering Jared’s connections to both the BDSM community and McKay-Taggart, if Riley needed to get any information about the membership at The Firehouse, he knew who to call.

He tilted his head to look at her. “Ready?”

She nodded.

“Lift up your hair.”

“Why?”

He only lifted a brow, signaling that even though they might not be inside the club yet, the time to remember their roles had arrived. To his relief, she understood and lifted her long, thick ponytail. Once her neck was exposed, he reached into a satchel he’d left on the floorboards and pulled out a velvet bag. From that, he removed a stunning pounded-silver submissive collar, a single copper ring providing the only hint of color.

Her eyes went wide, and he tensed, mentally readying himself to deflect her protest. Instead, he only heard her slow exhalation of breath.

“That’s stunning. Is it…” She trailed off, then licked her lips. “It’s a collar, right?”

“It will mark you as mine,” he said. “I’m going to put it on you now.”

He didn’t ask permission, but neither did she protest. On the contrary, she held the ponytail higher and leaned forward as he latched the clasp in the back.

When he leaned back and saw her, a dark goddess with a ring of starfire at her neck, he seriously considered raising the privacy screen to block the driver’s view, peeling her out of those pants, and fucking her hard and fast. Just a little appetizer before the main event.

But that, of course, wasn’t happening.

Instead, he drew in a breath and reached for the door. “Ready?”

When she didn’t answer, he looked back, expecting her to be focused on the façade just beyond their window. But she wasn’t. Her attention wasn’t on the club, but on him. And when he thought about it, he knew why. She’d seen the inside of the club already. It wasn’t a mystery.

But she’d never seen him in that environment. Hell, collaring her had probably only added to her confusion.

“Trust me,” he said, the words both gentle and commanding.

He expected her acquiescence—that was the game, after all. What he hadn’t expected was the simple truth that colored her voice when she finally spoke.

“I do,” she said, the obedience and submission in those two simple words positively slaying him.