With This Collar by Sierra Cartwright Page B

need someone to talk to, feel free to get in touch.”
    “Thank you.” She didn’t tell him that she had no intention of giving Master Marcus her contact information. She would sort through this on her own.
    Marcus returned with a bottle of water from the bar.
    The two men greeted each other. Master Marcus placed a hand on her shoulder. She wasn’t sure if the touch was meant to be reassuring or possessive.
    “Drink this,” he told her, loosening the cap.
    He didn’t check to see if she would obey. He simply assumed she would.
    The two men talked, and neither of them addressed her. She sipped the water, more because it gave her something to do than anything else.
    Under normal circumstances, being ignored might offend her. Right now, it didn’t. In fact, the sooner she could find her clothes and go home, the better.
    “Please give Julia my contact information in case she needs someone to talk to,” Gregorio said to Marcus.
    Marcus nodded.
    After wishing them both a good evening, Gregorio excused himself.
    “Ready?” Marcus asked.
    “Yes.”
    He headed upstairs, and she followed at a respectful distance, the water bottle clutched in her hand. A few couples were chatting, but the sunroom was empty.
    “I can see myself out,” she said, feeling nervous now that they were alone again. Her clothes were where he’d left them.
    “I’m sure you can.” He made no move to leave.
    Resigned, she picked up her plain cotton underwear. She vowed to take a trip to the lingerie store soon. She pulled up her stockings, telling herself she shouldn’t feel self-conscious. He’d seen every part of her.
    He watched wordlessly as she fastened the hooks on her bra then wiggled into her skirt. Her fingers shook as she tried to slide the buttons of her blouse through the damnably small holes. It pissed her off that he noticed and moved in to brush her fingers aside.
    “Let me.”
    Rather than starting at the top, he fastened the bottom one first. She felt his fingers on her skin, and tiny tremors shook her. “Thank you.” Honestly she’d never been this cared for before. Despite her feminist proclivities, she knew she could get accustomed to his treatment.
    He adjusted her collar before stepping back.
    After straightening her shoulders, she slipped into her shoes. She told herself that she was once again in control, but that was a lie. Having this man close to her undid her completely.
    She located her belongings in the foyer.
    “Keys?” he asked, extending his hand.
    “I—”
    “Don’t argue,” he told her.
    She fished out her keys from the cavernous depths of her purse.
    “Which car is yours?” he asked, opening the big oak doors.
    “It’s that one.” She pointed to the street. “It’s that small, black SUV.”
    “I’ll bring it around.”
    “Marcus—”
    “Master Marcus,” he corrected. Green fire sizzled in his eyes. “Question my authority one more time and I’ll have you back over that spanking horse so fast you won’t remember your name. Clear?”
    “Yes, Sir.” The idea of getting into a warm car that had the windshield cleared would be pure luxury. “Thank you.”
    “I wondered when you’d remember to use some manners.”
    Without another word, he went outside, braving the cold. He levelled a look at her. She remained silent.
    She didn’t relish the drive back over Berthoud Pass. The smattering of snow during the ceremony had been beautiful, but it could make the roads treacherous.
    While she waited, she put on her coat and leather driving gloves.
    A few minutes later, he re-entered the house. Snowflakes clung to his hair, and his hands were red. Her heart melted. He’d gone outside for her .
    “Your chariot awaits, madam.”
    “Thank you. You didn’t need to, but—”
    “You’re welcome.”
    She closed her mouth.
    He took hold of her elbow, ensuring she didn’t slip as he guided her to the car. Like a gentleman, he held open the driver’s door and handed her inside.
    “Contact me