Read Online The Lingerie Shop by Joey W. Hill - Free Book Online Page B

business, arranged orders for her own customers. The closest piece looked like a picnic table, only it was about half the traditional length and the space between the benches and table was too narrow to slide one’s legs between them. The benches were padded, as was the table itself, with beautifully tooled red upholstery secured with antique gold tacks. The wood was a dark cherry, polished and finished. The quality was excellent, the type that fetishists paid four figures to own.
    She thought of Logan’s hands, the calluses and rough palms, and knew where he’d acquired them.
    Her gaze moved to a St. Andrew’s Cross not yet stained, and the hand sander next to it that said it was still being prepped. No scratches from bound, straining hands yet. She tried to clear the thickness out of her throat. “Wouldn’t a power sander be faster?”
    “Electronics have their place.” Logan braced a hand on the door, hooking his thumb in his jeans pocket as he followed her gaze around the room. “They make things happen faster. But being in direct contact with the grain opens it up, lets the wood talk to you, tell you what it needs to become. Which is a lot like what happens to the people who use the finished product.”
    She folded her arms, a defensive movement. I can’t be here. I can’t. She was suddenly aware of how alone they were. When he touched her face, she jumped.
    “You keep looking at me like that,” he said quietly, “you’re going to make me think I should have made that spanking a promise instead of a tease.”
    Here he had his choice of equipment to make that happen. “Don’t,” she managed, and he took his hand away.
    Fortunately, he left her at the door, as if nothing unusual had happened. It gave her room to breathe, to steady herself. As he moved to the far side of the room, she saw a long wooden chest. It had carved feet, allowing a few inches of space beneath it. The piece was done in a golden pine, and the carved embellishments on it reminded her of the hinges she’d seen this morning, suggesting that was their intended place. As she drew closer she saw she was right, because he’d already screwed them in place.
    She really needed to get out of here. Instead she came to Logan’s side. He’d squatted next to the chest and unlatched the top. The front of the chest became two doors that folded back like wings along the short sides, with the help of the ornate hinges.
    “This piece is for Troy’s Mistress.”
    The chest walls were a facade for . . . a cage. A human-sized cage, if the human stayed on all fours or lay down. He or she could sit up, if the head stayed bowed.
    “She plans to put it at the foot of her bed,” Logan explained. “At the base corners are cutouts for air, so if she decides to close him in darkness, to punish or deny him the ability to see her changing clothes, she can.”
    She should act appalled, shocked, but his tone as he spoke of Troy and his Mistress, the way he passed his hand over the top with such pride in his handiwork, killed the impulse before it could form. Instead, she had an image of herself in the cage, Logan reclining in some manly chair, reading or watching cable. He’d have his ankles crossed and beer in hand while he glanced casually at her, watching her become more and more aroused, awaiting his pleasure.
    A weird flutter moved up to her throat.
    “Troy’s doing the sanding, the hardest work on a piece like this. Once it’s smooth enough, I’ll stain and finish it. It’s not ready for the hinges yet, or even the bars, but I put the pieces together tonight to make sure it’s coming together properly. And to impress you.” He gave her a disarming smile, so potent it had the opposite effect.
    “He’d sleep in a cage for her?” She was proud of her note of cynical incredulity, even if it wasn’t an accurate reflection of what was happening inside her. When Logan glanced up at her, she had a feeling he saw it, because his eyes did that