Tristan's face lit up with a dazzling smile and dangerous charm. "An educated hypothesis made from years of careful observation."

"So sure of your skills, are you?" I asked, resting my hand against his thigh and was pleased to feel the muscles bunch and coil beneath my touch. His body, every bit as responsive to me as mine was to him.

Emboldened by this discovery, I glanced down at the contract I held, than leveled my gaze at him. "You said that you wanted an equal, so prove it. If you want me to submit to you, then you have to agree to submit to me, in equal exchange."

He took a moment to think it over, his teeth chewing the inner lining of his bottom lip and those killer eyes of his narrowed speculatively. "How?"

"We rotate. One week here at your place, the next week at mine. While on your turf, I obey your rules. And when you're at my place you'd have to adhere to mine."

He rotated his glass in slow, steady circles. Pensive. "Give and take."

"Just like in any relationship."

"This wouldn't be a relationship."

My smile brightened. "Call it whatever you like: agreement. Collaboration. The bottom line stays the same."

Tristan set his glass down on the coffee table, braced an elbow across his knee. "I'm a man of control. You realize compromising goes against my grain?"

More because my throat was dry than to pause for dramatic effect, I sipped my whiskey before setting down my glass to join his. And mimicked his pose, bringing us closer still.

"If you want me, Shade,"--his eyes deepened at the use of his surname-- "then you won't have much of a choice."

We sat for a moment, face to face, so close I could almost see the subtle haze of shadow across his jaw. He was always smoothly shaved. So pristine. So polished and put together. I wondered what it would be like to see him a little roughed up. A little ragged. Dirty.

Excitement jolted between my legs and I made every concerted effort not to squirm.

"How about a demonstration?"

"I'm not ready to sleep with you."

"Don't worry, Ms. Pierce. I have something more...interesting in mind." Rising, he stretched out his hand. Held it there, waiting for me. I looked at that wide, roughened palm and my body began to tingle in response and wonder.

What would it feel like to have that hand sliding across my skin? Exploring my most sensitive, my most secret of places? And discovering new ones? Biting my lip, I slid my hand into his and rose to my feet, glancing around us apprehensively at what might come next.

"What now?" I looked up at him as he angled his head towards the wall of windows.

"Assume the position."

"You're kidding."

He leveled his gaze then shifted his eyes towards the windows in question. A silent command to echo the previously spoken. Huffing, I did as he asked. I placed my hands to the pane of glass and employed steady, even breaths as he slid in behind me. This time, unlike last night, he was close--body to body--so that I could feel the steady drumming of his heart, so clam and controlled, and the rhythmic flow of his breathing. I focused on that flow, that rhythm and brought myself around to match his pace.

Drawing inward and releasing outward deep and long and slow breaths that made my head a little light, a little dizzy.

"We're going to try something daring," he said. "A test of your willingness to shed control. To obey. To put yourself in my hands. An act of submission. Of release." His voice was tender, soft and whispered against my skin. His hands brushed along my arms, the heat from his palms radiating under the cotton of my blouse until I thought I would burn from just the weight of his touch alone.

"Do you think you can do that?"

Not trusting myself to speak, I only nodded.

"Good. I want to watch you touch yourself."

"What?"

"You're going to stand here. I'm going to stay with you. I want you to do as I say and come for me."

There, braced against the glass, we stood facing out towards the city and inside I was torn between apprehension and exhilaration. This wasn't like Shade Tower where we were perched at a dizzying height over the cityscape, distant and as removed as the clouds. From here, I could see the Manhattan streets. Alive and humming with people and the rush of cars. And just across...rows of windows where anyone at a passing moment could look out.

And look in.

"Someone will see." My voice whispered out, hoarse at the edges.

"Who cares? You're here with me. Safe. Protected. And they're all beneath you. Wanting you." As he spoke, Tristan's hands glided down the sides of my body, easing under my blouse to dance along the edge of my jeans. Loosening the top button, above the rush of my breath, I could hear the rough grating as he slowly--oh so slowly--peeled the zipper down.

"You're powerful. Sexy. Unattainable. Who cares if they should see?" The blunt edge of one finger traced the waistline of my underwear, whisper light, and beneath that gentle caress my muscles quivered in awakening. Longing. And the ache for more was fierce.

"Lose yourself. Let go."

His command was absolute, and I had promised to do exactly as he asked, just this once.

A test. A sample. A dare.

How far could I go? I would never know if I wasn't willing to push the boundaries of my limits at least once. His tongue graze my lobe and my breath hissed out. Sharp and sudden.

"Do it."

His hands rested on my hips, holding there. Waiting. Patient. Between my legs, the ache grew, fierce and feral. I lowered one hand from the glass, and set it against my belly where my innards lay knotted and twisted, fluttering.

Cheek to cheek, in the glass I could see his face, his eyes dipped low and watched as my hand moved south...the edges of my fingertips skimmed beneath the narrow band of my underwear.

And proceed lower still.

"Softly," he urged. "Gentle strokes. Tease yourself."

I obeyed, and he guided me. Telling me what to do, and how to do it. At some point I lost track of him, of myself-overcome by the wanton thrill of discovery, to think that someone down there on the streets below would look up and see me. Locked in this moment.

I gasped as the first licks of pleasure quivered in my thighs, tightened in my belly. A coil, wound so tense it was soon to snap. A violent promise of blissful, all-consuming release. Suddenly that was all I could think about. All that mattered.

Combined with the press of his body behind me, the weight of his hands on my thighs-the clash of pleasure and nerves was maddening. Thrilling. I arched into him, my head tipped back against his shoulder. Following his careful instructions, my touch grew more determined.

A circular press, a heavy stroke and glide.

Closer. Closer. Almost there...

"Yes." His voice was hoarse, his mouth set against my throat so I could feel the feathering of lips, the nip of impatient teeth. "Let it go. Look at me. There. I want to see it happen. In your eyes. Look at me as it takes over."

Our gazes locked in the glass. I wanted to close them, to lose myself in the sensation but I kept my eyes fixed to his. Locked to him. A connection forged through the glass while he whispered all sorts of wicked and wonderful things.

"Let it come. I'm here. I won't let you go."

I wanted more. Needed more. Yearned for me. His hands slid beneath the waist of my shirt, his touch skimming the sensitive curve underside my breasts. My breath sobbed out with panting, liquid moans. I went weak. Oh, so weak.

And came!

A bright, violent surge. So strong my knees buckled and just about every bone I had went soft as water. Were it not for the strength of those arms that never left, I would have slid into a limp, boneless puddle at his feet. But, as he'd promised, Tristan was there to catch me. Hold me.

Scooping what remained of me into his arms, Tristan carried me over to the couch. And in his arms I was weightless, floating on residual waves of delicious euphoria.

High on pleasure. Drunk on release.

What was that?

I was no novice to my own body, but I had never experienced anything quite so...primal. Tristan held me, gathered in his lap, my head resting in the comfortable nook of his shoulder. His hands stroked my hair.

I don't know how long it took for me to find my voice, but when I did it was calm. Steady.

"I can't believe I did that." A giggle burst through. Then another. And another. Before I knew it I was laughing, my face buried in his chest. When I looked up at him, his eyes were alight with that same laughter, that same wonder coursing through me.

"You were perfect."

"I was an exhibitionist." I snorted into my hand. "I'm sure half of Manhattan got quite an eyeful, especially anyone in the apartments directly across from you. God!" Still laughing, utterly galled, I buried my face in my hands.

"No one saw you," he assured.

Removing my hands, I rolled baleful eyes up at him, unconvinced. "I appreciate you trying to placate me, but you can't possibly guarantee something like that."

"No one saw you," he said again with complete, unfaltering conviction. "Those windows," he nodded towards the area I'd just performed my little show, "they're mirrored for privacy on the outside. We see out. No one sees in."

"Mirrored." Relief rushed fast and cold beneath my skin. "I had no idea."

"That was the point. You trusted me. You let go. You were free." His finger crooked under my chin, angling my head back so his lips could press against the sensitive curve where my jaw joined my throat. "And you were magnificent."

I was never one to preen under someone's praise, but my skin came alive at his words. I felt radiant. He was so completely happy, thrumming with joy, as if my willingness had brought him about as much pleasure as I experienced through my own release.

"My god." I raked my gaze over his face, astounded and a bit intimidated by how easily he outmaneuvered me at every pass and turn. "I don't know if I should be in awe or terrified of you."

Smiling, he lifted my hand, kissed my fingertips. The same ones I'd used to pleasure myself. "Trust without reservation can be scary, just as it is liberating. That's all it takes to be a submissive. The lifestyle is more than whips and chains and leather. It's naked trust. Complete vulnerability. That achingly beautiful moment of putting yourself at the mercy of another, knowing they adore you. Worship you. All of their wants, needs and desires centered on you. Fulfilled through you. You alone."

My heart skipped then lunged into sharp, rapid beats. "And you want that with me?"

"Yes." His answer was immediate. Absolute.

So was mine.