The loud rasp of leather yanked through Carson’s belt loops sent her attention to his torso.“What are you doing?” London’s panicked gaze shot to his face.“I don’t have a collar on me.”“I am wholly disinterested in being collared.”“One weekend, London.” He grasped one of her hips with his free hand. “If you’re disappointed at any time, you can walk. I’ll never speak of it again. Our work together will go unaffected. No one—and I mean no one—but us will know.”“Would you put that in writing?” Her eyes filled with mischief.Priceless. London lured him toward a lightning storm. He could play. Hell, nothing appealed in the moment more than a weekend playing with London. Yes, this is what he wanted. Now he needed to know if she was willing.“I’ll do one better.” He snaked the belt around her waist until the leather rested against her hips.“I’m not a notch on a belt.”“You could never be a notch, London Chantelle. You’re the whole belt, sugar.”Her face softened, and the playfulness in her eyes died. He recognized the deliberation behind them, the wonder if she’d be safe, here and at work. London needn’t have worried. She might get scared, but mutual satisfaction was the only way his brand of sexual fulfillment worked.“Say yes or no.” He pressed his torso to her corseted body, the last space between her body and his obliterated. “But say yes.”“What will happen if I say yes?”“What you want. What you’ve probably always wanted.”Her eyes misted with a surprising vulnerability. “Yes.