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filed for divorce. Somewhere deep inside, he’d expected Sheila to chase after him, beg him not to go, but all she’d said was, “I never really loved you anyway.”
    After that, Myles went looking for anything that would give him control over his life, and by accident, he’d stumbled across BDSM through an old friend. It gave him control and a sense of belonging in his life, and he ha dn’t looked back since . He was one hell of a Dom, but he wasn’t as skilled with matters of the heart. In fact, at the first hint of anything more than sexual gratification these days, he ran as far and as fast as he could in the other direction. For him , dominating was about trust, but it wasn’t about love. Love had bitten him in the ass once, and he was never going back to living that way again. So he hid behind his role as a dominant and the owner of a club, making it unbelievably clear to every woman he took to his bed that there was to be no romantic attachment. That policy had served him well for years. Until his red-haired siren stepped into the club and into his heart.
    He’d known from the very second she a ppeared in the foyer of The Iron Cuff that she was his other half; the one his hopelessly romantic mother had always told him was out there somewhere. The curve of her body, the way her hair shone in the dim candlelight of the club, every inch of her creamy, pale skin that seemed to glow had called to him. And she’d been dressed to kill. An unconscionably tight green corset with a black lace overlay had been laced tightly to accentuate her curves. A tiny leather mini with a slit up the thigh danced when she walked and gave just a hint of bare soft skin where panties should have been. Garters peeked from beneath the leather skirt; black, sheer, seamed tights drew attention to legs that seemed to go on for days, and longer when you noticed how she balanced atop insanely high black stilettoes. There wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t have fallen all over himself trying to earn her affection that night.
    Despite knowing in his soul that she was his heart’s perfect match, he’d given her the same line he gave every woman who crossed the threshold into his room — no strings attached, no romance, nothing permanent. For the first time in his life, it had hurt like a bitch to say the words, but rules were rules, and he wouldn’t risk having something wonderful for only a short time before it slipped away. An experienced submissive, Arianna had only nodded with her head down that night and whispered, “Yes, S ir. If that is your command, then that is how it shall be, and I will take only as much as you give and be satisfied.”
    God, he could still hear the words in his head crystal clear and remembered how much in that very moment he’d wanted to give her the world. Instead, he’d given her one night, the next, and the next . But he’d never given her more than what her body needed, and he’d certainly never given her his heart. No, that he didn’t have to give . She’d stolen it the moment he saw her, and he knew he’d never get it back . Six months later, he’d still never told her how he felt , and although he’d managed to remain wonderful friends with the subs before her, when Arianna left his bed for that of another, he would never be the same. Friendship would be out of the question. He realized that first night why his first marriage had fallen apart. Sheila wasn’t meant to be his, but Arianna was . Arianna seemed to be perfectly content with the status of their relationship, whatever it was, and he had no need to rock the boat and risk her leaving one minute too soon. Never once had she asked him for more, and she’d never hinted that she felt about him the way he felt for her. So, they continued each night the way they always had; the way he’d convinced himself it needed to be. Dominating and submitting physically, but never more than that. The only problem was it wasn’t enough for Myles anymore