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  from her brow.

  Shiori waited for the next twisting squeeze of pain, unable to keep up with the breathing exercises. After another hard push, all the internal pressure vanished and she had such a feeling of relief.

  “Your baby girl has arrived, Lofgrens!” Dr. Barr said.

  Next thing she heard was a loud squawk. Then the nurses rushed her off to the medical equipment.

  Shiori looked at Knox. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Go see. Please.”

  Just as Knox started to walk over, Dr. Barr turned, holding a wrapped bundle. “Sorry. Nothing to be concerned about. Just routine checks.”

  She reached out for her husband, and of course he was right there.

  Dr. Barr set the baby on the pillow on Shiori’s lap. “Congrats. I’ll let you two coo and admire her for a few minutes while I finish up the medical end.”

  “I wanna see her.” Knox pulled her hat off.

  Beneath the hat was fuzzy blond hair.

  Shiori laughed. “Of course I gave birth to a Viking child.”

  “We’ll turn her into a ninja to even things out.”

  “Deal.”

  “Look at her. She’s beautiful. Just like her mama.” Knox brushed his lips over Shiori’s. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  They just stared at their red-faced little miracle. In awe.

  “What are we naming her?”

  Shiori stroked her baby’s cheek, and immediately her head turned, looking for food. “How about Nuri?”

  “After your grandfather?” he asked softly.

  “Yes. Is that all right?”

  Knox kissed her forehead and then his baby daughter’s. “It’s perfect.” Then he touched Nuri’s tiny hand with his pinky finger, and those itty-bitty fingers clamped down on his. “Whoa. She’s got a strong grip.”

  “Our baby girl is already trying to wrap herself around Daddy’s little finger.”

  “Something she’ll learn from her mama, since I’m completely wrapped around your whole hand.”

  “Mmm. But I like it better when you’re at my feet.” Marriage and pregnancy hadn’t changed her dominant nature, but it had made Knox even more protective of her. Every once in a while he’d take those instincts too far and she’d become the big bad Domme. But their dynamic worked beautifully.

  “It’s a shame with your medical restrictions that you’ll have to wait six weeks until you can boss me around, Mistress.”

  She turned and looked at him. “I have restrictions. You don’t. So nice try, but you’re not getting a six-week sabbatical.”

  Knox smiled slyly. “Worth a shot.”

  “Having second thoughts about being my sub?”

  “Nope.” He smooched her mouth. “Since you finally put me in my place, you’re stuck with me.”

  “For good?”

  “Forever, kitten.”

  Shiori nuzzled her face into his neck. “Forever doesn’t seem like long enough with you, but it’s a good place to start.”

  Don’t miss the next book

  in the Mastered Series by Lorelei James,

  CAGED

  Available in May wherever books and e-books are sold!

  Continue reading for a preview.

  PRESLEY stopped in the middle of the hallway so abruptly that Molly ran into her.

  When she glanced up to see what’d caught Presley’s attention, she froze.

  Deacon leaned against the wall, his muscled arms crossed over his chest, one knee bent with his cowboy boot pressed behind him. The pose seemed casual, but she wasn’t fooled.

  “Beat it,” he said to Presley. “I need to talk to Molly.”

  Her stomach swooped.

  “You have shitty manners,” Presley said.

  Deacon ignored Presley and continued to level his brooding stare at Molly.

  Talk about unnerving.

  Talk about hot.

  Shut up, hormones.

  Then Presley moved and blocked Molly from his view. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Go. I’ll give him five minutes.”

  “Don’t take his crap.”

  “I won’t.”

  Presley’s gaze darted between Molly and Deacon as she backed away. “I’ll be right over there if you need anything.”

  “She won’t,” Deacon said.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, asshole.”

  “I know. Keep walking.”

  When they were alone, Molly kept the entire width of the hallway between them. “You were rude.”

  “So?”

  “So you save your decent behavior for the strippers working the VIP section?”

  His eyes flashed. “Sometimes. What are you doin’ here?”

  “Drinking with my friends and soaking up the naked entertainment.”

  “Doesn’t seem like your scene.”

  “I hardly think you can chastise me for being here when it appears you’re a frequent patron of this strip club, Mr. VIP.”

  In the blink of an eye, Deacon had caged her against the wall, his mouth next to her ear. “You trying to push my buttons?”

  “Back. Off.”

  “Not on your life.”

  She shivered when his hot breath tickled her neck.

  He muttered, “Goddamn flowers.”

  “What?”

  “You always smell sweet. Even after sweating in class for an hour, you didn’t reek like everyone else.”

  “There’s a compliment.” Molly put her hands on his chest and pushed him. “Move it.”

  A soft growl vibrated against her cheek. “You drive me crazy, woman.”

  “Hey!” a loud male voice shouted behind them. “Let her go.”

  Deacon retreated to face Black Bart. “I don’t have my hands on your merchandise, so this isn’t your concern.”

  Merchandise? Was that all the women who worked the club were to him?

  Black Bart stopped a foot from Molly and set his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, pretty eyes, is this fucker harassing you?”

  “No, I’m not harassing her, but I’ll break your hand if you don’t take it off of her,” Deacon retorted.

  “Deacon! What is wrong with you?” Molly asked.

  “Got a case of mine, I’m thinking,” Black Bart said. “You know this joker, sweet thang?”

  What perfect payback to proclaim she’d never seen him before. But that’d set him off. And Deacon “Con Man” McConnell in a rage was dangerous for everyone. “Yes, I know him. He is—was—my kickboxing instructor.”

  Black Bart grinned. “No kidding. You one of them ka-rah-tay chicks?”

  “No. I’ve discovered I like beating the shit out of something a couple of times a week.”

  “I hear ya there.” Despite Deacon’s warning growl, Black Bart stepped between them. “Say the word and I toss him out on his tattooed ass. I don’t cotton with any women being threatened in my club.”

  “Our conversation got a little intense, but we’re done now.”

  Deacon’s dark look said, The hell we are, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “Okay. You need anything, come find me.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” Deacon said softly, the menace in his tone unmistakable.

  “Like you’d know how he was looking at me,” she said hotly. “You haven’t stopped glaring at me since the moment you trapped me back here.”

  “Staring at you and glaring at you aren’t the same thing, darlin’, and you damn well know it.”

  “My mistake. But you’re always glaring at someone. Is that MMA badass behavior? Daring someone to screw with you so you can beat the snot out of them?”

  “‘Beat the snot out of them’?” A smile curled his lips. “Babe. If I hit a guy in the nose, it ain’t snot running out.”

  “Eww. Thanks for the visu
al.”

  Deacon inched closer. “No one here knows I’m a fighter.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s my personal business.”

  “I don’t imagine there’s much talking going on during a lap dance anyway.”

  “Not usually, no.”

  “Whatever. I’m leaving.”

  He shook his head. “Not done talking to you.”

  “We have nothing to talk about. I ran into you at a strip club. Big deal. You’re a single guy. It’s your personal business if you pay some chick with fake boobs to grind her bony ass on your crotch.” She paused. “Does that about cover it?”

  “No, it doesn’t begin to cover it.” Deacon crowded her against the wall. “You still seeing that banker friend of Amery’s?”

  How did Deacon know that?

  “What was it about the douche bag that caught your eye? The snappy suit? The nine-to-five work hours? The freakishly perfect groomed hair?”

  “Maybe it’s the fact he didn’t stand me up for our first date.” She gave his shiny head a blatant once-over. “Sounds like you’re jealous of his hair, baldy.”

  His eyes hardened. “Shaving my head is a choice.”

  She shrugged. “How do I know you’re not sporting a chrome dome because otherwise you’d have a bad comb-over?”

  Omigod. I cannot believe I said that. To Deacon.

  Molly braced herself for his reaction.

  But nothing could’ve prepared her for his mouth coming down on hers in an explosion full of heat, need and possession.

  Keep reading for a preview of

  SCHOOLED

  by Lorelei James.

  Available now in e-book!

  “WHAT did you have to promise Shiori to convince her to let us borrow her private jet?”

  Amery felt Ronin staring at her beneath his sunglasses.

  “Nothing. You realize she does not own this plane? It belongs to the company.”

  “Same difference. It’s been here, in Denver, at her disposal, since her arrival. And it’s not like Okada is missing it, right? How many personal aircraft does your grandfather own anyway?”

  Now Amery suspected Ronin had narrowed his eyes beneath the dark lenses. “Five. Three airplanes and two helicopters. Do you have a problem with that?”

  She wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question. Although she and Ronin had been married for six months, she hadn’t gotten used to the perks of having the heir to a corporation worth billions as her husband. Ronin didn’t live ostentatiously—if she didn’t count his penthouse suite atop the building he owned, or his SUV, or his sports car, or his custom motorcycle. But every once in a while the magnitude of his fortune hit her.

  Like now.

  Ronin stopped in front of her and pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. Then he curled his hand around her face. “Baby. Having access to a private jet just means we don’t have to worry about airport security confiscating the bags of ropes I packed for us.”

  “Bags? Is that why you insisted I could pack as many suitcases as I wanted?”

  “No.” He feathered his thumb across her bottom lip. “We’ll be gone for two and a half months. I want you to have anything you need from our home to help you to settle in.”

  She kissed the inside of his wrist. “All I need to feel at home is you, Master Black.”

  “You humble me, Mrs. Black.”

  “Mmm. You still love saying that.”

  “And I always will.”

  “Mr. Black?” a male voice spoke behind them.

  Ronin’s stern mask dropped into place before he turned around. “Yes?”

  The blond pilot, a male somewhere in his fifties, offered his hand. “Mark Beauchamp. This is my copilot, Bernie Samuelson.”

  “Pleased to meet you both. This is my wife, Amery.”

  Another round of handshakes.

  “We’ve done the preflight checks. We’re scheduled to refuel in Hawaii. Then we’re flying to Osaka. Do you have any questions?”

  “Can I see your aviation orders from Okada?”

  Amery’s gaze moved between the two men. What were aviation orders?

  Pilot Mark pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to Ronin.

  Ronin removed three papers and read the first one; then he lifted the paper up to the light. After he read the second document, he scanned the third and handed the paperwork back to Pilot Mark. “Glad to see it’s all in order.”

  “We’re familiar with protocol with Ms. Hirano.” He pointed to a burly man standing about twenty feet behind them. “Carver will handle your luggage. As soon as we’ve finished final checks, Nick, your flight steward, will bring you on board.”

  “Appreciated. Thank you.”

  “Our pleasure, Mr. Black.” Pilot Mark smiled at Amery. “Mrs. Black.”

  Before she could ask Ronin a question, he strode toward Carver and handed him the luggage claim ticket. Then he returned to her. “You okay?”

  “This is all really weird. What paperwork did he give you?”

  “Authorization papers. In Japan, Okada has an aviation crew on