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then, she’d never let her five-foot-five stature be a disadvantage.
    His head turned slightly toward her, but otherwise he remained still. “What do you mean?”
    She slapped his ass. The crack rang through the room and stung her hand. There wasn’t an ounce of give in his flesh. His butt cheeks clenched, a hiss of inhaled breath singing through his nostrils.
    “Try again,” she demanded, blowing a slow rush of air over the damp skin at his nape. The shiver that ran down his back seemed to chase right into her.
    He shook his head, a hard snap that tossed his hair around. “I want this, Mistress.” His voice had softened, a gravelly truth rumbling through the words along with the respectful tone that had her control-freak core purring.
    She had him, right here.
    But he’d lied to her.
    A man didn’t suddenly become a willing, accepting submissive after one little act of bondage. She smacked his ass again, the sting on her palm reminding her of his deception. He flinched, his jaw clenching.
    “I don’t appreciate being played.” She stepped to the side and landed a full swing to his ass that reinforced why she used a paddle when dishing out punishment. Yet the ache in her palm was welcomed. “You lied on your app.” Another smack. “You lied to me.”
    The next blow bordered too close to anger. Heat radiated up her arm to ignite the deep-seated resentment she’d been trying to bank since leaving the rooftop.
    Damn it. This was wrong.
    She sucked in a breath that did nothing to ease the knot in her stomach. He’d abused her trust, but she wouldn’t allow the ache in her chest to grow.
    “I’m sorry, Mistress.” The apology was accompanied with a tip of his head that spoke of his sincerity. His profile showed eyes closed and brows drawn low.
    “You should be.” She wiped the trace of sweat from her forehead before walking to the door. She paused with her hand on the knob to face him. “You wasted my time and tried to manipulate me. I’m not another bunny you can wrap around your finger.” She raked a scorn-filled glance over him. “Go back to the rink, Hauke. At least your game is halfway decent there.”
    “Wait.” He took a step toward her but froze when she leveled an icy glare at him. Yeah, that one little action was enough. “Please,” he said. “I wasn’t playing you.”
    She gave a derisive snort and shook her head. “Still lying.” Her sigh was harsh, but served to drain away the last of her anger. She’d been so sure she could show him what he was that it had never occurred to her he already knew. A bit of her own conceit had been at play, she could admit.
    “Be careful, Hauke,” she said. “The Den is the safest place in the area for you to play, but nothing’s guaranteed. I’ll tell Seth you’re a sub. He can finish the entrance interview. If he lets you in, I’d suggest you cut the crap and own what you are before you get hurt. Topping from the bottom doesn’t work with a Domme who knows what she’s doing, and you really don’t want to play with a Domme who doesn’t.”
    “Look.” He reached his hands out, but the cuffs halted his movement with a jerk. “Damn it.” He glared at the restraints before looking back to her. “Can we talk about this? I fucked up. I get that.” He wet his lips. “But...but I want this.”
    She studied him, refusing to let his gruff charm sway her. “I’m sure you do. But I don’t.” She opened the door, the cooler air from the hallway wafting in. “Seth will bring your shirt.” She nodded toward his cuffs. “You can get yourself out of those if you want to badly enough.”
    With that she left the room, the door clicking closed with a finality she took to heart. Her stride was sure and strong as she made her way downstairs to Seth’s office. There was a bathtub calling her and a stack of papers to read. Hopefully Hauke had learned his lesson, but then, her years of working with pro athletes had taught her that arrogance often