Stranger Things Have Happened: An Adrien English Write Your Own Damn Story (The Adrien English Mysteries) by Josh Lanyon Page A

shelves of the cabinet.
    “Wow. Bedknobs and broomsticks,” you murmur. How the hell do some of those things fit inside the human body? You probably don’t want to know. Not firsthand anyway.
    Behind you, Riordan makes a sound like he just inhaled one of the benches. When you glance back at him he looks impassive, so maybe you imagined it.
    “So what happens now?” You take the initiative in the hope of restoring some sense of balance to the weird dynamic that seems to be developing here.
    “Sir,” Riordan says lazily.
    “Sir?”
    “You address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Master.’”
    “Okay,” you say politely.
    “Sir.”
    “Got it.”
    He prompts patiently, “Sir.”
    You could go on like this all night, but clearly this is a game he has endless patience for. “Yes, sir, sir.” you say.
    His mouth twitches, but there is an uncomfortable knowingness in his eyes. And in fact, calling Riordan ‘Sir,’ does sort of give you a funny feeling in your solar plexus. You probably should have eaten dinner.
    “Good.” He’s right behind you, breathing down your neck, crowding into your space. It’s uncomfortable and unsettling and, yes, electrifying. “Do you have a safe word?”
    “No.”
    “Sir,” he says very gently, and the hair on the nape of your neck rises.
    You swallow. “No, sir.”
    “Pick a safe word.”
    “No. I mean, ‘no’ would be my safe word. Sir.”
    “Pick a different safe word.”
    “Stop?” you offer.
    “Sir.” He swats your butt and this time it stings. “Choose again. Now.”
    “Cobalt, sir.”
    “Good boy. You may take your clothes off now.”
    “You know, to be perfectly honest —”
    He swats you again. This time you spin around with more than a little irritation. “Okay. Enough. Cobalt.”
    It’s almost worth it to see the look on his face. “Cobalt?”
    “You heard me.”
    “That’s your safe word. You only use it when you’re —”
    “I know. I read. Enough. I’m safe wording.”
    He seems more perplexed than irritated. “If you don’t want this, then why are you here? And don’t give me some bullshit about academic curiosity. What are you really here for?”
    Fair question. You open your mouth, but you can’t exactly tell him you were playing private dick — although by now he probably has the message as to just how private your dick is. And anyway, that isn’t exactly the truth. Nor is this totally about Robert. Not really. The truth is, until you heard Riordan was a possible member of this club, it never occurred to you — would never in a million years have occurred to you — to show up here.
    You’re here for Riordan.
    He sees it in your face, as your gaze meets his tawny one, and he looks about as staggered as a man like Riordan can look and still be on his feet.
    “You’re kidding.” He even sounds a little faint.
    “No.”
    His voice goes even deeper, more growly. “It doesn’t work like that.”
    “What are you talking about? We can’t just have sex?”
    “No, we can’t just have sex.”
    “Why?”
    “What do you mean, why? That’s not what we do here.”
    It’s your turn to be perplexed. “Sexual intercourse does not take place here?”
    Riordan looks exasperated — also a little perturbed. “Of course sexual intercourse takes place. But not…you can have that anywhere.”
    You flutter your eyelashes and say as winningly as you know how, “I was thinking I kinda want to have it here. With you.”
    “It doesn’t work like that, baby.” He’s trying to be patient now. Even kind — despite the fact that he’s taken a couple of steps back from you like he thinks you’re wired with explosives.
    “Don’t you want to have sex with me?”
    He stares at you for so long, and so strangely, that your heart sinks. You really did misread this.
    But then he says quietly, “Yes. I would.”
    “Well then —”
    “This isn’t the right place or the right time.”
    “Seriously?” You look around the room. Okay, there’s no bed