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the lid free and dipped his fingers in.
    Her nostrils stung from the potent scent, but her skin sizzled under his touch. Soothing under the touch of his strong fingers rubbing the ointment into her sore knees, her eyes followed his. Intense and focused, she watched his fingers caress her tender and red knees. She tried her best not to jump from the pain of his strong fingers and tried to wait for the expected soothing relief, but it wasn’t coming soon enough.
    “Relax.” His voice was low, soft, but stern and it was warm and comforting.
    Meeting eye to eye, she was chained by his chocolate stare. Feeling her pain rub away from under his touch, she began to wonder what brought her to this. Why would she ever allow any man to treat her like this and why did this feel so natural?
    “If you must choose to sleep down here, then you must adhere to my rules.” Consuming her knee in his hands, he held her firm. “You will not explore the club. You will not go beyond that door, nor will you linger in hopes to breathe in the corruption.”
    Stuttering to her defense, she was stopped abruptly with a finger over her lips.
    “There is no room for argument.” Timing out a moment’s breath, he softened his voice. “You will take your meals upstairs in my kitchen and you will at all times be dressed in proper attire.” Dropping his eyes to the open collar of her nightshirt, he found that little peek-a-boo or cleavage to be sexier than any corset and thong he could dress her in, and wanted to limit who would view her in either forms of attire. “I will see that you receive a proper change of clothes.”
    Tongue-tied, she gaped at him. Where had this tenderness come from, his secret possessive and nurturing nature? Was this the same man who only a couple minutes ago forced her on her sore knees? There was no longer a sign of the over-powering dominating brute who had stoked himself with pride as she scrubbed his bathroom floor.
    But, despite all those arguments, he was still the same man whose essence was still tingling her taste buds. Never had she felt such a thrill and desire to perform for a man. It didn’t feel like a duty, but rather a reward. Suddenly the need to fight him filled her with excitement because she knew that with the greater the struggle, the greater the passion.
    “Close your eyes,” he instructed and it didn’t take much for her to follow instructions. Focusing on his kneading hands, she began to feel the long draw of sleep. With a final flutter of her lashes, Tosh surrendered.

Chapter 5
     
     
     
    Mind crushing screams ripped Tosh from her dreams. Reaching across the bed to hit the Snooze button on a non-existent alarm, it didn’t take long for her to realize that nothing was where it should be. Opening her eyes, she was pulled back to last night and awakened in her new room, covered with an afghan on top of a naked mattress.
    Bobby Darin’s voice invaded her room with a song she had always loved, Mack The Knife.
    “I hope you rested well,” came a familiar deep voice over the music. Circling the room, she didn’t see the wicked Mr. Richard, or where the music was coming from. “I took the liberty of retrieving your uniform from last night.” Then she saw it. A speaker inlaid in the wall and framed like a work of art. “You will find today’s uniform as well as some nourishment in my living room. You have five minutes to be present.”
    A click ended his transmission, leaving the song to finish playing out and leaving Tosh to waste valuable seconds trying to understand what she had just heard. Instinctively, she stood to obey, only to fall back down on the bed, pulling the afghan to cover her naked limbs. She had been stripped bare and a quick glance told her that he left nothing on her.
    Holding the afghan tight to her chest, she scrambled around the room, looking in drawers and her closet, trying to find her belongings or just one stitch of her own clothes that she had left there the night