Unrestrained by Joey W. Hill Page B

expression on her face that had him reaching down to touch her cheek, draw up her bemused gaze.
    “That’s a rare pleasure for me. Most of my time with subs is spent in a club.”
    Her shoulders eased. It mattered to her, that this was a relatively unique experience for him. Even more intriguingly, it had mattered to him to set her straight on that. He was correct—this relationship was going to be more. Whenever she sensed that possibility, like now, he noticed she became more nervous, but it was the good kind of nervous, the kind that was an aphrodisiac to a Master.
    He slid his fingertip down her jaw, to her throat. “Every time you touch a particular chair, or walk across a rug, or handle a spatula in your kitchen . . . I want you to be thinking of me.”
    She phased out on him at little bit at that, her busy mind obviously caught up in the possibilities, but she recalled herself. She drew back. “I expect we should talk about rules and boundaries. Limits.”
    An entirely different matter from her earlier erroneous attempt to define the relationship itself. What she meant now was the structure that would guide her submission to him. Of course the word “limits” sounded forced from her lips, but he understood that. Most new subs wanted to get completely lost in the fantasy of total surrender, which was another reason a Dom needed to keep a firm hand on the reins, to keep the sub safe. Athena might have that temptation, but she had the wits and maturity to take it back to that track herself. They were on the same wavelength. He’d been about to suggest the rule discussion as part of the tour.
    “Want to do that while you show me around? You seem like a good multitasker to me.”
    “Most women are.” Her eyes smiled, even though the rest of her looked a little wound up.
    “Athena.” He set the coffee aside, leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “You know there’s nothing to be afraid of here, right?”
    “I think I want to be afraid, a little bit.”
    “Yeah. I’ll take care of that, I promise.” The dangerous surge he felt at her admission must have shown in his face, because her color went high again, the pulse jumping in her throat. A strong Dom had a predator’s instincts, such that he had to tamp down the desire to push that adrenaline reaction. Today wasn’t going to be about that, he reminded himself. Again. “Let’s get started on that tour.”
    —
    S he’d planned to take the paved walkways, not wanting to make uneven terrain an issue for him, but he was the one to step off the path, drawn by the various sculptures and how her landscaping was designed around them. She’d helped with those plans, so she was pleased to see his interest. He came to a stop at the section where a gravel path of white stone spiraled around the focus piece, a large bronze statue of a griffin. Its wings were spread, head lifted to the sky in a defiant cry. Standing a few paces away was a life-sized man with a drawn sword. His posture said he’d intended to engage the griffin, but his expression suggested hesitation, as if the beauty and savage power of the creature had overwhelmed him, or some other conflict held him back. The man wore a suit, like a contemporary businessman.
    Dale looked from one to the other. “When the sun goes down, do they come to life and fight each other until dawn?”
    “If they do, they’re quiet about it. My bedroom window’s right there.” She nodded to the second level of the house. “The artist called it
The Choice
. He provided no other explanation than that, leaving it to the viewer’s interpretation.”
    “As the best artists do. It’s also a good way for the lousy ones who create junk to cover their asses.”
    After that dry comment, Dale reached up to touch the griffin’s wings, the curve of the head, the texture of the feathers sculpted on his convex chest. He pivoted to look at the view beyond the griffin. Past the swordsman, the garden path