The ’...Into You’ 2-Book Collection: Crash Into You, Melt Into You

He sniffed. “Then you go home.”

The squeak of a door swinging open made her suck in a breath. The soft buzz of conversation washed over her as the air temperature around her warmed. They had arrived. A crowded room, and she was half-naked and bound for all to see. Her legs wobbled beneath her, and Master J’s grip tightened on her arm to keep her from falling. “Almost there.”

A few more steps and he halted her. “On your knees.”

He helped her bend, and her knees landed on a soft pallet. His hand ran along the back of her hair. “Choose wisely, doll.”

She reared up like someone had pinched her. Only one person had ever called her doll. She turned her head and opened her mouth to ask the question, but he cut her off.

“No more talking.” And with that she heard his footsteps fade.

Well, hell.

A sharp tinkling sound cut through the hum of voices—metal on a wine glass she guessed. “Members, it’s time for the ­initiation. For those of you participating tonight, please step forward. For those here to watch, please have a seat.”

Brynn sat back on her calves and flexed her fingers, her arms starting to tingle from the restricted position. This was it. No turning back now. She said a silent prayer that she’d get someone who would go easy on her. Heavy footfalls circulated around her, and the air shifted as people stepped into her space, bringing a mix of male scents to her nose—cologne, soap, sweat. She set her mouth in a firm line and kept her expression smooth, determined to keep her fear hidden.

A finger pressed under her chin, lifting her face to some unknown suitor. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

Her heart crashed against her ribs, her panic rising like mercury in a thermometer. She cleared her throat and tried to keep her voice even. “Brynn.”

“Have you been in a D/s relationship before?” asked another male voice.

“Once, a long time ago.”

There were a few murmurs of approval, and the first man released her chin. Then a third voice, deep and melodic, chimed in. “Did you love the guy or was it a casual relationship?”

She wrinkled her forehead, confused by the question. “Does it matter?”

“Answer the question, sub.”

She clenched her jaw. “I loved him.”

“But you think you can keep it casual now?” asked the first man.

She nodded. “I know I can.”

The men asked a few more questions, then the sound of the clinking glass hushed everyone again. “Time to choose.”

Brynn’s head swam and sweat beaded her skin. She dug her nails into her palms and started counting backward from one hundred in her head, a habit she had picked up as a child when she’d wake up from nightmares in an empty house.

Ninety-nine.

Feet shuffled around her.

Ninety-eight.

The strong smell of cigar smoke filled her head as someone else neared.

Ninety-seven.

What if she couldn’t handle it? What if she was repulsed by all her choices? Tears gathered beneath her lids.

Ninety-six.

She tightened her fists and focused on the image of her sister when she was little—blond pigtails and wide, trusting eyes—­before she and Kelsey had been tainted by the world around them. Brynn tilted her chin up.

Ninety-five.

It didn’t matter who was standing in front of her. She would do what she needed to do. She was tired of living with this crippling fear. And on top of that, her sister needed her. If she fainted like one of the damn goats, then so be it. A hand touched the back of her head and yanked at the knot on her blindfold.

Ninety-four.

The wisp of silk fluttered to the floor, and Brynn blinked as her eyes adjusted to the low lighting of the room. Three sets of shoes came into vision.

“Lift your head, Brynn, and choose your master.”

Brynn raised her eyes and stared into the familiar blues of Reid Jamison.

TEN (#ulink_f28d23cc-336e-5422-8c46-1a54445cec6d)

then

Brynn yawned as she lifted the stack of files and set them on her desk. She hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep the rest of the weekend. Every time she’d laid her head down, images of her night with Reid had flooded her senses. How could the guy walk away from something like that? Why couldn’t he just accept that he’d enjoyed it? Yes, it was a little… alternative. But so what? Didn’t people always say that the college years were the experimental ones?

She glanced over at Reid’s work area. He had his head turned toward his computer screen and was typing away. He’d barely looked in her direction all day. She plopped into her chair with a huff. What an asshole. Even if he didn’t want to pursue anything with her, it was shitty to ignore her after he’d slept with her.

She picked up the date stamp and started stamping each file with a little more vigor than necessary. The silent treatment was going to drive her mad. He should at least have the balls to face her and not cower behind his computer all day. Men. She finished the files and moved them to the side of her desk, then spun in her chair to grab the other stack off the floor.

“You stamp those things any harder, you’re going to rip through the paper. I can hear you pounding away at them from across the room.”

Brynn jumped at the interruption and swung around to face Reid. She slammed the new pile of folders on her desk with a heavy thunk. “So sorry, did I break your concentration?”

He leaned down, palms splayed on the top of her desk. “Am I sensing some hostility here, sugar?”

“Boy, you’re bright.”

He gave her a half-smile. “I’m sorry I sent you away. I needed to get my head straight.”

“I don’t think it worked. It’s apparently still stuck up your ass.”

He sighed. “I guess I deserved that.”

She glared at him and went back to stamping. Flip page. Stamp. Flip page. Stamp.

He grabbed her wrist, stilling her hand. “Don’t shut me out, Brynn.”

“Interesting request, considering you’re the one who can’t seem to bear a glance my way today.”