Read Oak, Sophie - Siren in Waiting [Texas Sirens 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) for Free Online Page A

looking for a table. A waitress approached, and the woman got the sweetest smile on her face. Her eyes glanced down before she forced them back up. She spoke quietly.
    He’d been trained to look for signs, and every bit of that training told him he’d just hit the jackpot. There was a sure intelligence in her brown eyes that belied her obvious submissive nature.
    Her hair was pulled back in a bun. If she was his, he would walk straight up to her and tangle his hands in it. He would force her hair to spill over her shoulders, drowning her in brown and gold velvet. From the massive size of that knot at the back of her head, Trev would bet it reached almost to her waist. And it would be soft, like the woman herself. She would be silky and sweet. She would kneel at his feet, and when she looked up at him, he would feel ten feet tall. He wouldn’t feel like a failure. He would feel like her Master.
    This woman was soft, so soft it practically poured off her. When her lips turned up in a shy smile, Trev wondered what they would feel like on his cock.
    Fuck. It had been too damn long since he’d had sex. He thought about the small bag he’d brought with him. Julian Lodge had given it to him the day he’d finished his training and was allowed to work with subs in The Club. Leo had laughed and told him never to be caught without his kit. At one point in time, Trev had always carried around an athletic bag. Now he carried a small leather one with lube and ropes and a whip.
    You never know when a little sub is going to need some discipline, Leo always said.
    He imagined her tied up and spread on his bed, awaiting his pleasure.
    And then he noticed the man beside her. A tall, strong cowboy in Levi’s, a western shirt, and well-worn boots. Blond hair curled out from under his Stetson.
    Bo O’Malley.
    Just the person he didn’t want to see. He owed Bo O’Malley one of those long, rambling apologies he never seemed to get good at. It was something every addict got used to, but Trev wasn’t looking forward to it. He’d forced himself to apologize to so many people, but he was pretty sure Bo O’Malley wasn’t going to listen.
    Bo put a hand to the pretty woman’s waist and started to lead her to an empty booth on the opposite side of the diner. The woman’s head turned. Her eyes trailed back and locked on to him. They widened in recognition.
    Trev felt his stomach knot. He couldn’t change his face or his past. He just hated the way people looked at him now.
    Except she smiled shyly, as though she was just looking at a stranger and trying to be polite.
    Damn, but he wanted to eat her up.
    “Do you know Mouse?” Shelley asked, an expectant look on her face.
    “Mouse?” Trev had to force his eyes away. The woman with the brown hair scooted into her booth. She faced his way, but looked at Bo. Was she his wife?
    Bryce snorted. “Mouse Hobbes.”
    He searched his brain, trying to connect that face to a name. “Bethany Hobbes?”
    A vision of a ridiculously shy girl from his high school whispered across his mind. She’d been younger than him. She’d been smart, but quiet. Utterly ignored. He couldn’t ignore her now. He hadn’t reacted this way to a woman in years. His hands tightened around his coffee mug. Despite the ache in his groin, it felt damn good to want something, anything besides a drink.
      Bryce continued. “Poor girl’s been chasing after that cowboy since they were kids from what I hear. I have no idea why he lets her hang around. She’s been his shadow for years.”
    “She’s not his girlfriend?” Trev’s cock had been at half-staff, but the idea that she was unattached had an effect on him. His cock hardened to the point that he could probably pound nails with the damn thing.
    Submissive . The word floated in his brain like a butterfly. That girl right there was submissive, and she probably had no idea. He could show her. He could train her.
    Now Bryce outright laughed. “Mouse? Mouse doesn’t