After agonizing months of suppressing her true feelings, it took one passion-filled night for Tera to realize that she was in love with her friend, the deliciously dominant Eric Yun, a revelation that had her running scared. Months later, the two are closer than ever… and yet they couldn’t be further apart. Feeling that keeping both Eric and herself in the dreaded “friend-zone” is the only way to save the man she loves from worse pain, Tera throws herself into her work, determined to turn The Loft into the BDSM paradise she envisioned it as, even if she’s the only one in the club not getting any.
Enter Neal Drake. Rich, arrogant, and the kind of man who doesn’t take no for an answer, Mr. Drake is everything that Tera is desperate to avoid. He turns up at her club with offers of both a business and a personal nature that Tera would be hard-pressed to refuse, but along with his tempting offers he brings something much darker: eerie, painful reminders of a past she’d rather forget…
Ever since they met, Eric has only had eyes for Tera Bodnar. Too stubborn to move on despite his better judgment, he’ll take what he can get from the woman he’s fallen in love with. But he’s determined to be part of the happy ending he knows she deserves, even if she doesn’t believe it herself. Nothing will deter him from his goal, not even some billionaire bastard invading the safe haven that The Loft is supposed to be.
When Mr. Drake begins exerting his dominance outside of acceptable boundaries, Tera must confront her deepest fears, and it’s not just her heart that’s at stake. Friendships will be tested, limits will be pushed, and Tera will have to decide between taking a chance on love, and letting go of Eric forever…
**This book is the second in The Loft series and should be read after Whip Smart.**
Midnight was fast approaching on the last night of 2016, and downtown Pittsburgh was alive with activity. Energy rippled through the chilly air from the heart of the city from the thousands of people pouring in for the First Night festivities. But while the people outside had their family-friendly fun, a very different kind of party raged on in the sixth-floor loft of an old, unassuming office building. The Loft was crackling with energy, too, the air vibrantly alive with the sound of laughter and moans, the snapping of whips, and the thrum of the music like a heartbeat in the background.
The sounds of the party were a seductive offer almost too tempting to refuse, and to anyone else, it might have been. But as I sat in my office with only a thin layer of drywall separating me from the den of delicious depravity, I held a much bigger source of temptation in my hands. There were certainly a few perks that came with being the founder and proprietor of The Loft, the city’s only private club specifically catering to those of us with kinkier proclivities. For the sake of protecting everyone’s privacy, patrons relinquished all phones and cameras at the door, while I got to keep my cell phone in my tiny office. But the temptation to sneak in and check it could be dangerous, especially tonight, when the one person I could normally always count on to be at the club was instead across the damn continent, sending infuriatingly enticing half-naked photos and doing a damn good job of not noticing how they affected me.
Stupid, sexy friend, I grumbled to myself as I drank in the picture of Eric that he’d sent me a few hours ago, of him with his arms thrown over the shoulders of two of his cousins, soaking up the sun on a beach near Los Angeles. He’d been there since Christmas Eve visiting his mom’s side of the family, and I knew it would only be a few more days until I saw him again, but missing him felt like and endless torment, and if Eric had been any other guy, I’d have sworn he’d sent me that drool-worthy picture to torture me further. No mere photo could ever do him justice, and it killed me that for all his swaggering displays of confidence, he still couldn’t seem to fully comprehend just how close to physical human perfection he was. I felt like I should’ve been worried that my phone might catch on fire just by having a shirtless photo of him stored on it. With the combined attack of those deliciously toned muscles and finely sculpted face, he was simply too fine to be legal. And even if I’d never been so hypnotically drawn to anyone the way I was to him, I still knew all too well from experience that people who inhabited that near-mythical higher plane of attractiveness too often turned out to be the worst kind of assholes. And yet Eric Yun—with his scarred soul and resilient heart—refused to conform to any of the molds that most people fit in.
A rush of warmth flooded through me as I let out a sigh, calling to my attention the needy ache of desire that never fully left me. Eric Yun. The man I loved. With a dimpled smile every bit as devastating as his sensual dominance. The one whose touch I craved as much as air and water. Whose touch I’d never experience again, my punishment for the choice I’d made after one scorching-hot night together at this very club so many months ago.
Ah, the classic “one who got away” cliché. My mouth twisted into a bitter smile even as I continued to shamelessly ogle the picture of him. I had no right to be resentful; that he still found it in himself to be friends with me after all I’d put him through was a miracle, and should’ve been proof enough that I really was no good for him and that I’d made the right call back in April. Still, it was hard not to feel a little pathetic as I sat there at my desk: kinky sex party raging on in the next room, and all I could think of was how badly I wanted to run my tongue over every inch of Eric’s hot, wet, perfect skin…
A knock on the door jerked me out of my fantasy. I swung my legs off my desk, fumbling around to hide my phone back in one of the drawers before Megan came in and failing spectacularly. And I knew it was Megan; no one else but my close friend and roommate would knock first and then immediately barge in without waiting for an answer. With the exception of her and sometimes Eric, everyone else at The Loft was surprisingly deferential; it was still taking some getting used to. Megan marched in with her eyebrows raised high at my antics, but said nothing until she’d closed the door behind her.
“You know, this ‘air of mystery’ thing you seem to be going for is starting to seem more like a ‘creepy recluse’ thing,” she teased.
I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair. “Come on, I only ducked in here for a minute.”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah, and you’ve been ‘ducking in here for a minute’ every five fucking minutes. Sooo, how’s Eric?” Her voice took on a sing-songy quality that made my cheeks burn.
Ah, the classic “everyone can see it” cliché, the snarkier half of my brain taunted me. Well, everyone but Eric, apparently…
The sounds of the party were a seductive offer almost too tempting to refuse, and to anyone else, it might have been. But as I sat in my office with only a thin layer of drywall separating me from the den of delicious depravity, I held a much bigger source of temptation in my hands. There were certainly a few perks that came with being the founder and proprietor of The Loft, the city’s only private club specifically catering to those of us with kinkier proclivities. For the sake of protecting everyone’s privacy, patrons relinquished all phones and cameras at the door, while I got to keep my cell phone in my tiny office. But the temptation to sneak in and check it could be dangerous, especially tonight, when the one person I could normally always count on to be at the club was instead across the damn continent, sending infuriatingly enticing half-naked photos and doing a damn good job of not noticing how they affected me.
Stupid, sexy friend, I grumbled to myself as I drank in the picture of Eric that he’d sent me a few hours ago, of him with his arms thrown over the shoulders of two of his cousins, soaking up the sun on a beach near Los Angeles. He’d been there since Christmas Eve visiting his mom’s side of the family, and I knew it would only be a few more days until I saw him again, but missing him felt like and endless torment, and if Eric had been any other guy, I’d have sworn he’d sent me that drool-worthy picture to torture me further. No mere photo could ever do him justice, and it killed me that for all his swaggering displays of confidence, he still couldn’t seem to fully comprehend just how close to physical human perfection he was. I felt like I should’ve been worried that my phone might catch on fire just by having a shirtless photo of him stored on it. With the combined attack of those deliciously toned muscles and finely sculpted face, he was simply too fine to be legal. And even if I’d never been so hypnotically drawn to anyone the way I was to him, I still knew all too well from experience that people who inhabited that near-mythical higher plane of attractiveness too often turned out to be the worst kind of assholes. And yet Eric Yun—with his scarred soul and resilient heart—refused to conform to any of the molds that most people fit in.
A rush of warmth flooded through me as I let out a sigh, calling to my attention the needy ache of desire that never fully left me. Eric Yun. The man I loved. With a dimpled smile every bit as devastating as his sensual dominance. The one whose touch I craved as much as air and water. Whose touch I’d never experience again, my punishment for the choice I’d made after one scorching-hot night together at this very club so many months ago.
Ah, the classic “one who got away” cliché. My mouth twisted into a bitter smile even as I continued to shamelessly ogle the picture of him. I had no right to be resentful; that he still found it in himself to be friends with me after all I’d put him through was a miracle, and should’ve been proof enough that I really was no good for him and that I’d made the right call back in April. Still, it was hard not to feel a little pathetic as I sat there at my desk: kinky sex party raging on in the next room, and all I could think of was how badly I wanted to run my tongue over every inch of Eric’s hot, wet, perfect skin…
A knock on the door jerked me out of my fantasy. I swung my legs off my desk, fumbling around to hide my phone back in one of the drawers before Megan came in and failing spectacularly. And I knew it was Megan; no one else but my close friend and roommate would knock first and then immediately barge in without waiting for an answer. With the exception of her and sometimes Eric, everyone else at The Loft was surprisingly deferential; it was still taking some getting used to. Megan marched in with her eyebrows raised high at my antics, but said nothing until she’d closed the door behind her.
“You know, this ‘air of mystery’ thing you seem to be going for is starting to seem more like a ‘creepy recluse’ thing,” she teased.
I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair. “Come on, I only ducked in here for a minute.”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah, and you’ve been ‘ducking in here for a minute’ every five fucking minutes. Sooo, how’s Eric?” Her voice took on a sing-songy quality that made my cheeks burn.
Ah, the classic “everyone can see it” cliché, the snarkier half of my brain taunted me. Well, everyone but Eric, apparently…
Double-check the price before you buy!
But opening a club for business proves to be no small task, especially where unexpected romantic entanglements are concerned. Since first meeting at a kinky costume party, the magnetic attraction between Tera and easy-going Dominant Eric Yun has been undeniable, and yet Tera finds herself denying it at every turn. She knows she has baggage to spare, and the high-strung submissive is taking no chances when it comes to her budding friendship with the sweet and seductive Eric, no matter how tempting he may be.
Eric Yun has baggage of his own. No one knows better than he does how to hide pain behind a joke and smile. He’s spent years learning to take life in stride, and just when he thinks he has it all figured out, Tera Bodnar sweeps into his life with her big dreams, stubborn determination, and soft submissive side. He’s wanted her more than anything since they met, and now it’s impossible to get her out of his head. But he can tell she’s hiding painful secrets of her own, and the more he learns about this beautifully complicated woman, the more he finds himself revealing to her about the Eric behind the smile…
As Eric chips away at her walls, Tera learns that there is much more to this man than his mouth-watering good looks and effortless charm. She’s falling for him hard and fast, but if life has taught her anything, it’s that the harder the fall, the worse the damage, and the risk of Eric becoming a casualty in the process is just too great. But how can she hope to resist him when she can’t even escape him in her dreams?
**Note: This book is the first in a series and ends on a cliffhanger to be resolved in the book two**
When she’s not busy reading, writing, binge-watching Game of Thrones, or doing a million other important things, Siena enjoys traveling, archery, and getting lost in the woods (also known as “hiking”). She and her better half/writing buddy/sometimes Sir/sex muse live together in Pittsburgh. Their dream is to relocate to the middle of nowhere and build a castle capable of withstanding the impending zombie apocalypse.
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