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definitions.
    He slowly released her lips but didn’t go far. “I think when you say ‘no’, you’re really saying ‘no, but do it anyway’. Do you want to be overpowered? Do you want me to prove you’re weak and I’m strong?”
    “What I want is for you to let me go,” she answered raggedly. “You’re scaring me.”
    “I know.” And even though she was so hot the crotch of her pants was wet, scaring her was a problem. Scaring her would make her run.
    Sobered by the thought, Mikal shook himself and shifted from out-of-control to levelheaded in an instant, but his position was precarious. Struggling to reestablish distance, he released her and backed away. “Get out. Next week we’ll work. But Callista?”
    She wobbled on her feet but met his eyes warily. “What?”
    Holding her gaze, he said, “You lied to me today. Do it again and we’re finished. I’ll find someone else.”
    She paled visibly and Mikal realized at some point along the way, she’d stopped thinking of him in terms of client and occasional fuck. Worse, he could no longer deny that he’d stopped thinking of her that way too.
    Well, he had to go back to the way things were or push her out of his life entirely. Callista called to parts of his soul that he couldn’t afford to set free. Even though she wasn’t responsible for his slipping control, he wanted to blame her. He wanted to punish her for his weakness. Weary of fighting the losing battle with his dark urges, he turned and walked away from her.

Chapter Three
     
    Several hours later, Callista stood behind a black velvet rope barrier surrounded by people like her—experimental, curious, frustrated with the partners they found elsewhere. The private-membership fetish club Bondage held an open-to-the-public night once a month. Like any popular club, however, admission was not guaranteed. Two men stood at the door screening the waiting hopefuls.
    “How long has it been since they let anybody in?” someone asked at her elbow.
    She glanced back and met the kohl-lined eyes of a thin young man. “About half an hour.”
    “Who’d they admit? Tops or bottoms?”
    Callista raised one bare shoulder in a shrug. “They weren’t wearing signs on their backs.”
    “Three subs and maybe a Dom,” someone else interjected as Callista turned her attention back to the door. “About half and half on the gender line. I think the crowd’s pretty evenly split tonight so you have as much chance as anybody, Marki.”
    “Oh good,” Marki said. “I hope they let me in before I have a chance to get bitter and bitchy like some people.”
    Wincing at the commentary on her attitude, Callista folded her arms across her bare stomach and shifted her weight from one spiked heel to the other. She hated the club scene and the display of flesh, hair and fashion that was more important to admission than the cover charge. She’d decided to subjugate herself to the humiliation tonight because she’d finally accepted that she needed an outlet. Her encounter with Mikal earlier in the day made her realize bottling up urges and suppressing desires was doing her more harm than good. Mikal’s threat to end their relationship…well, it wasn’t much of a relationship but she’d become attached to it. She couldn’t tell him the truth and he wouldn’t tolerate a lie. The thought of not seeing him anymore scared her into action. So—tonight she’d find someone who could do what she needed done and next week she’d resume business as normal with her favorite client.
    A sense of excitement rippled down the line and shook Callista from her reverie. She quickly found the source of the change. One of the security staff left his post at the door and started walking the length of the rope barrier.
    He stopped at her section of rope and pointed at her. “You have your card ready?”
    She reflexively tightened her fist around the stiff square of paper she held, then forced her hand to relax and nodded.
    “In,” he