What had I gotten into?
I could have run, found another door or even a window from which to escape, but James’s act of locking the door stated, if I knew what was good for me, that I wasn’t going anywhere.
From an umbrella stand next to the door, James drew out a thin, bamboo cane. He flexed it and slowly approached, as if he were the one stalking prey.
“You know why you came back,” he said. “And it wasn’t because of any tales I told out of school to that boy, Tyson.”
I didn’t answer, but backed up against a couch, the high edge pressing against my ass. My sweaty hands gripped the solid top, covered in black leather, the only sure thing in my suddenly upside-down world.
“Turn around,” he said. “Drop your pants.”
My breath caught. My god, his face, that look.
I whispered, “No.”
The
