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“And what if I do kneel for you?” she asks.
“You’ll be rewarded,” I reply softly, wearing a casual grin.
I can see the contemplation on her face. The way she worries her lip and wrings her hands. She’s at war within herself, a raging battle between what she wants and what she thinks she’s allowed to want.
But ever so slowly, one side of that conflict clearly takes the victory as Briar moves to her knees. Her eyes stay averted from mine, almost as if I am the living embodiment of her own shame, and she cannot face me.
“Lovely,” I whisper quietly to myself as I take in the exquisite way she settles into a submissive pose, hands folded in her lap, head bowed, shoulders relaxed.
She slips on submission like a well-fitting dress, immediately flaunting how fucking good it looks on her.
“Do you like it?” I ask, hearing the weakness in my own voice. Even I’m caught off guard by how sexy she looks in a kneeling position.
“Being on my knees?” she asks as if I’m speaking a different language, and I might as well be. This is as foreign to her as Portuguese.
“Being submissive.”
She attempts a glance in my direction but immediately casts her eyes back to the floor. “I don’t know.”
“What if I was your husband, Briar? What if you trusted me enough to let me do whatever I want to you, and what if you knew that all of that would please me very much? Would you like that?”
The gentle curve of her throat moves as she swallows nervously. She deliberates her answer, almost as if she doesn’t trust it herself. But it slips through her lips regardless. “Yes.”
It rings with truth like an anthem.
“Have you ever told Caleb that?” I ask carefully as I take a step toward her, pacing around her slowly like a predator.
She shakes her head.
Reaching down, I touch her chin and guide it upward until she’s staring right at me.
Fuck, she really is so beautiful with those big blue eyes, warm and honest. Something about Briar brings me comfort, makes me feel safe, and makes me want to test her limits and play with her.
“I like your voice. I want to hear it.”
“No,” she says assertively. “I’ve never told Caleb.”
“Why not?”
“Because…it’s not that easy.”
“It’s not easy to express to your husband what you want?” I genuinely don’t understand. What is the point of marrying someone if she can’t even tell him her desires?
Briar grows flustered. “What if he doesn’t want what I want? What if he thinks it’s silly or it changes things between us?”
I crouch down to look her in the eye. Brushing her blonde waves behind her ear, I give her a soft expression. It seems such a waste to me to have a beautiful wife like Briar and never truly know what she wants because she’s too afraid to tell me. And the last thing I would ever want to do is help Caleb Goode, but I do want to help Briar.
“You know…” I say softly. “I could show you more. I could give you what you need without the sex. Without cheating on your husband.”
I’m playing with fire, and I love it. I’m offering her something that will undoubtedly infuriate Caleb. But I have a soft spot for this woman. Someone else’s wife. The wife of someone I hate.
Briar seems to lose her breath for a moment. She sways in her kneeled position, gazing into my eyes as if searching them for meaning. Then, suddenly, without warning, she scurries to her feet.
“That’s very kind of you, Dean. Really. But I can’t.”
“Briar…” I call as she moves toward the door. “Don’t go.”
“I really should. I’m sorry,” she stammers.
