Sweet Submission

Darla reeled inside and dropped her gaze to her wineglass, absorbing the implications of what she’d just learned. Not only was Jacob in Houston again, but it seemed he wasn’t here for a night or two, even a week or two, but long-term. And yet not once had he contacted her, at least, not directly. No matter how deserving his silence might be, that piece of knowledge hurt.

“Let me ask you something, Darla.”

Her gaze lifted and locked with his dark, intensely probing stare. “Ask away.” Her voice wasn’t her own. It was breathless, affected. The look in his eyes said he knew he made her nervous and liked it. Why in the world did that send a rush of heat over her skin? What was wrong with her?

“Did you research me as I did you before accepting our meeting?”

She wet her suddenly dry lips, and his gaze followed the action before lifting to meet her eyes once more. He had a way of making the small act blatantly sensual. As if sex were simply a part of his every action, his every thought. But there was more there, too—a dark sensuality in his stare that said he wanted her, that told her he would introduce her to his world, if she convinced him she wanted it bad enough. The unbidden ache between her thighs said he’d make it enjoyable. Guilt sizzled within her. She didn’t want this man. She wanted Jacob.

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice remarkably calm considering the spike of heat rushing through her and not because of her admission—she saw no reason to deny what any good attorney would do. Because of another flash of memory, of herself tied to those posts, of Jacob naked, erect, in command of her body. She swallowed hard. “I researched your history.”

“So then you’re aware there are rumors about the Society?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I was—I am aware of the rumors.”

“Do you believe them?”

“Yes. I believe them.”