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seen sparks like that since last Fourth of July.” I take a deep sip of my martini as she talks. “He isn’t here yet, but Nash is in the gallery,” Nova pauses for a sip of her wine and then continues. “You should go watch. I’ll make sure to let Bayne know you’re here when he arrives.” She gives me a playful wink and walks away.
    I head for the gallery with a spring in my step. Nova had told me all about Nash, and I’m curious. What kind of man shows up to a sex club to give women orgasms without taking anything for himself?
    I can tell which room he is in from the small crowd gathering. I sidle up to the floor-to-ceiling window so I can get an eyeful. A gasp escapes from my lips when I take in the scene before me.
    A striking man is sitting in a chair in the middle of the room. He’s removed his suit coat and tie, but he’s still wearing the rest of his clothes. His white shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscled forearms the size of tree trunks. The collar of his shirt is unbuttoned as well, and I see thick ropes of muscle at his neck. He sits there, holding a small black control box, with his eyes trained on the woman across the room from him.
    He’s beautiful, but she’s the one who made me gasp. Because she’s in the throes of the most spectacular orgasm I’ve ever seen. She’s kneeling on the floor, tied to the saddle-shaped leather box between her legs. She’s struggling to raise herself off it, pulling against her restraints, but she can’t get free.
    “What is she sitting on?” I ask the woman next to me.
    “A Sybian,” she says. I must look as confused as I feel because she continues, explaining it to me. “There’s a motor in the leather box. It powers a rod that extends through the top of the saddle. You can put all different kinds of attachments on it. Gives you the most intense orgasms ever. I can barely take one. She’s on number seven by my count. And it’s only been half an hour.” She motions to the woman in the room, a raven-haired beauty who’s squirming on the seat as sweat courses down her amazing curves. Her body shivers and jerks, and her eyes roll back into her head.
    “And he’s controlling it?”
    “Bingo.”
    I can’t tear my eyes away from them. “Have you ever been in there with him?”
    “Me?” She looks at me with raised brows. “God, I wish. But you don’t choose Nash. He chooses you if he’s interested and you’re very lucky.”
    “Does he do the same routine with everyone?”
    “There’s a little variation depending on what the woman is interested in, but the basics are always the same. You have to follow his rules.”
    “And what are his rules?” Now I’m curious.
    “No kissing, no talking, no real touching, other than when he ties you up, of course. He just wants to get you off, untie you, and then dismiss you from the room with a curt nod.”
    It sounds like fun in theory, but I can’t imagine enjoying anything more than what Bayne and I did the other night. The kissing, talking, and touching had been some of my favorite parts. I can’t imagine forgoing it. Not even for seven orgasms in a row.
    I’m about to tell my new friend my realization when a vice-like grip around my arm interrupts our conversation. It’s Bayne. And he’s pissed.
    “I thought we had an understanding,” he hisses in my ear as he pulls me toward the exit.
    “Stop dragging me around like I’m a rag doll and you’re a caveman.” I shake my arm loose.
    “Lower your voice.” He puts his hand on the small of my back and steers me toward the elevators. “I will not have you making a scene in here. We’ll discuss this downstairs in my office.”
    I relent and follow him. We ride silently down to the main floor. He’s fuming, and his anger pleases me in a perverse way. He wouldn’t get this upset if he didn’t care.
    His office is cozy and masculine. Lots of dark wood and metal. He sits behind his desk and motions for me to take the seat