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She'd put the keys in the ignition and lowered the window before letting him close the door. Reaching through the opening, she pinched up a small section of his shirt over his abdomen, tugging on it lightly, both a tease and a gentle rebuke. He stilled under her touch.
"Don't calculate or measure," she said. "Just answer my question, first thing that pops into your head. Do you know what you want?"
"Yeah. And no." His gaze flickered as if he hadn't meant to speak so baldly, revealing a confusion of feelings.
"That's okay, because I know what I want." Her grip on his shirt telegraphed her demand. As he bent toward her, she leaned far enough out the window to meet him partway and nibble on his bottom lip. Nice and full, a heated cushion, just the right kind of firmness.
When he would have responded in kind, she made an admonishing noise. "I'm the one doing the tasting here," she said. "Be still."
She was aware of his hands landing on the window frame, the resulting tension rippling through his biceps.
"Sweet. So many wicked, sweet things I could do with that mouth." She drew back, and met blue-gray eyes heated with desire, and conflict. Would he try to seize her, use physical force to make more of the kiss? She could feel that energy shuddering off him, but his eyes had that wary look. He'd talked himself out of it, for his own reasons. Maybe not the right ones, but that was all right. She'd take home some good fantasy material from her side of the kiss.
"I look forward to our date," she said, letting go and starting the engine. "How do I reach you if my schedule changes? Tyler didn't have a phone number on file for you; just your message inbox on The Zone private forum."
He nodded. "I have a pay-as-you-go phone for Tal to contact me about fights, but that's all I use it for. Tyler agreed to let me keep The Zone account for now, just to send and receive messages. I can check it at the library."
Interesting. She was sure Tyler had allowed that specifically to ensure she could communicate with Marius. And so Tyler could hack in and track what was going on between them, the protective control freak. She bit back a smile at the thought.
"Be sure and check that inbox, at least once daily," she said. "See you Friday. Oh, and Duncan?"
That little ripple again as she used his given name. She met his stormy eyes, letting him see the heat and intent in her own. "I'm not unhappy with the choice you made, coming to see me today at Marguerite's direction. But while you're under my command, no other Mistress gives you orders. I don't share my toys. Got it?"
A nice flare of heat among gray clouds, like heat lightning. He moistened those tempting lips. "Yes, Mistress."
Chapter Seven
Several days felt far longer than she expected, waiting to see him again. In between the demands of her job, her busy social life and the usual weekly home chores, she couldn't keep her mind away from what he was doing with his daylight hours. Did he have another job other than The Zone and his fighting? Where did he live? Did he have a pet?
Had he lain in his bed this week and closed his hand over his substantial cock, thinking of her? She had a couple nice sessions with her vibrator, imagining his muscular body naked and straining, hips lifting off the bed to shove his cock into his grip, his eyes fixed on her. Waiting for her to give him permission to come. Waiting and waiting, until he was quivering, his lips peeled back in a snarl, eyes wild.
"You can't come in your hand. But you can come inside my pussy."
Her own climax had surged through her as she imagined the way he'd bolt up from the mattress, seize her around the waist and take her up against the wall, pounding inside her, all that strength hers to command and call. Could he put his head on her breast afterward, defenses drained away? She wanted to have him sleeping in her arms, his body heavy against hers, damp with their combined heat.
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sp; She was aware her fantasies and questions were where a woman went in her head when she was interested in a man. She could be fully infatuated without being led around by her heart or pussy. Women put too many obstacles in their own way. It was her heart to risk, and if it got burned, she much preferred it to happen because she chose the path she took, no regrets.
She admitted she was worried about him being in the ring again. She kept thinking about that scar under the Aussie man's eye. Or Marius's disturbingly flat statement about losing moments thanks to repetitive head injuries.
She couldn't control any of that, though. And as the day of the date dawned, she let herself enjoy curiosity and anticipation about what he'd planned for their night. She had no expectations. He might blow it, surprise her, or come up with something that passed muster but wasn't memorable. But she'd walk away with more information about him, no matter what.
On principle, she was five minutes late. When she arrived at Safe Word's parking lot, he was leaning against his car, watching for her. He was shaved, wearing his white dress shirt and jeans again. He wasn't diverse in the fashion department, but that was fine by her. It was a good look for him. He had two shirt buttons open, straddling the line between exceptionally modest and disco-era. The decision showed enough of his chest to help her imagine her fingertips sliding into the opening. She'd stroke the crisp hair and muscled chest, feeling his heat and heartbeat.
The tails of the shirt and the crossing of his ankles drew her gaze to the packaging beneath the jeans. That, too, earned her approval. She was in the mood to get hot and sweaty tonight, aroused and wet. She'd said a normal date, and she had no intention of having sex with the man, but there was a lot of playing room between chaste distance and sexual penetration.
He jogged over to her car, holding up a hand to keep her from getting out. When he reached her, he opened the door and leaned on the outside of it. "Full service date, right? Door opening and everything."
"Did you go onto the Internet and brush up on your top 100 dating tips?"
"A man doesn't reveal his sources," he said, poker-faced, then the expression relaxed into a smile. "Fuck, you look good."
She was sure that wasn't in the dating handbook, but it worked for her. She liked it when his roughness slipped through. Until he figured that out, it told her when he wasn't acting.
She'd left him a message in his Zone inbox, asking what dress the night would require, and he'd responded "casual sparkly, but comfortable shoes. Sexy always works."
He wasn't much of an online chatter, but that worked fine for her, too.
