him. One that didn’t involve having to admit she was falling in love with Jett.
Now she realized there was no avoiding that inevitable outcome. So what she’d actually done was put them both in danger.
Unfortunately, even if she admitted the mistake, Jett was determined to investigate the crime. He’d talked of little else today as they’d lounged in the sand, watching the waves lick the shore.
His wheels were turning—analyzing all the clues and searching for motives. Jett’s knack for problem solving was part of what made him such an amazing crime writer. He could see all the angles and twists. Carissa had never once managed to figure out who the killer was in one of his books.
“Come on, Rissa. Let’s head back to the room. We can discuss our plan of attack for tonight.”
She took the hand he offered, relieved that with crime on his mind, at least Jett was distracted from his previous intentions. Seduction seemed to be off the table this afternoon.
She’d dodged that bullet again.
For the moment.
Chapter Seven
Jett sat at a table in the dungeon, watching as Carissa crossed the room to get him a drink from the bar. There were two unattached subs sitting at the counter—one the woman they’d seen with Gregory the previous night. Carissa had insisted on going over to strike up a conversation with the woman and Jett couldn’t come up with a good enough reason for her not to. Simply saying he didn’t want her more than two feet away from him wasn’t going to fly with his headstrong lady.
He shifted in his seat, trying to covertly adjust his cock in his tight jeans. He’d been rock hard ever since Carissa had stepped out of the bathroom an hour earlier in the outfit he’d purchased for her in the boutique downstairs. Roan had told him during the tour of the dungeon last night about the boutique’s “back room,” that specialized in fetish wear.
He’d dragged Carissa into the shop on their way back from the bar and picked out the sexy leather corset that zipped up the front, laced loosely down her back and framed her breasts perfectly. He’d thought she would balk when he finished the ensemble with a g-string, garters, black stockings and sexy fuck-me heels. Carissa hadn’t blinked twice. Once they got this messy business of murder out of the way, the two of them were going to explore every single one of his little submissive’s kinks.
Glancing around the room, he spotted several Doms looking in Carissa’s direction. Fortunately, he’d been smart enough to add a collar to her outfit. Though BDSM was more play than lifestyle to him, he liked the idea of Carissa belonging to him more than he cared to admit.
His feelings for her had snuck up on him, taking him down like a ton of bricks falling on his head. In two days, he’d forgotten what it felt like to regard her as nothing more than a friend. He couldn’t figure out how he’d felt such lukewarm affection for her for so long. He’d been a blind fool, but those days were over.
“She’s quite beautiful.”
Jett looked up, surprised to see another Dom standing next to his table. He was usually more aware of his surroundings, but with Carissa in the room, everything else seemed out of focus.
“Yes. She is.”
The man gestured to a chair and Jett nodded. “Please. Join me. I’m Jett.”
“Phillip,” the man responded as he claimed the seat Carissa had vacated a few minutes earlier. “Jett, huh? That’s an unusual name.”
Jett had heard that a lot. “Yeah. I know. My mother wasn’t big on family names. If she heard a name she liked, that was it.”
Phillip chuckled. “Only other Jett I’ve ever heard of is that author. Writes pretty good crime novels.”
“Jett Lewis.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Phillip said. “You a fan?”
Jett shrugged. “Sort of. I’m him.”
Phillip reared back in his seat. “Is that right? How about that? I’ve read all your books. Haven’t seen one lately though. You got
Now she realized there was no avoiding that inevitable outcome. So what she’d actually done was put them both in danger.
Unfortunately, even if she admitted the mistake, Jett was determined to investigate the crime. He’d talked of little else today as they’d lounged in the sand, watching the waves lick the shore.
His wheels were turning—analyzing all the clues and searching for motives. Jett’s knack for problem solving was part of what made him such an amazing crime writer. He could see all the angles and twists. Carissa had never once managed to figure out who the killer was in one of his books.
“Come on, Rissa. Let’s head back to the room. We can discuss our plan of attack for tonight.”
She took the hand he offered, relieved that with crime on his mind, at least Jett was distracted from his previous intentions. Seduction seemed to be off the table this afternoon.
She’d dodged that bullet again.
For the moment.
Chapter Seven
Jett sat at a table in the dungeon, watching as Carissa crossed the room to get him a drink from the bar. There were two unattached subs sitting at the counter—one the woman they’d seen with Gregory the previous night. Carissa had insisted on going over to strike up a conversation with the woman and Jett couldn’t come up with a good enough reason for her not to. Simply saying he didn’t want her more than two feet away from him wasn’t going to fly with his headstrong lady.
He shifted in his seat, trying to covertly adjust his cock in his tight jeans. He’d been rock hard ever since Carissa had stepped out of the bathroom an hour earlier in the outfit he’d purchased for her in the boutique downstairs. Roan had told him during the tour of the dungeon last night about the boutique’s “back room,” that specialized in fetish wear.
He’d dragged Carissa into the shop on their way back from the bar and picked out the sexy leather corset that zipped up the front, laced loosely down her back and framed her breasts perfectly. He’d thought she would balk when he finished the ensemble with a g-string, garters, black stockings and sexy fuck-me heels. Carissa hadn’t blinked twice. Once they got this messy business of murder out of the way, the two of them were going to explore every single one of his little submissive’s kinks.
Glancing around the room, he spotted several Doms looking in Carissa’s direction. Fortunately, he’d been smart enough to add a collar to her outfit. Though BDSM was more play than lifestyle to him, he liked the idea of Carissa belonging to him more than he cared to admit.
His feelings for her had snuck up on him, taking him down like a ton of bricks falling on his head. In two days, he’d forgotten what it felt like to regard her as nothing more than a friend. He couldn’t figure out how he’d felt such lukewarm affection for her for so long. He’d been a blind fool, but those days were over.
“She’s quite beautiful.”
Jett looked up, surprised to see another Dom standing next to his table. He was usually more aware of his surroundings, but with Carissa in the room, everything else seemed out of focus.
“Yes. She is.”
The man gestured to a chair and Jett nodded. “Please. Join me. I’m Jett.”
“Phillip,” the man responded as he claimed the seat Carissa had vacated a few minutes earlier. “Jett, huh? That’s an unusual name.”
Jett had heard that a lot. “Yeah. I know. My mother wasn’t big on family names. If she heard a name she liked, that was it.”
Phillip chuckled. “Only other Jett I’ve ever heard of is that author. Writes pretty good crime novels.”
“Jett Lewis.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Phillip said. “You a fan?”
Jett shrugged. “Sort of. I’m him.”
Phillip reared back in his seat. “Is that right? How about that? I’ve read all your books. Haven’t seen one lately though. You got
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