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“Look at me.”
His voice was almost a whisper. I peeked up at him and he took my chin, tilted my face up. “Still so timid. Why are you so afraid of me, Miss Clair?”
“I don’t really know you, Mr. King.”
He smiled. “True, but do you like me?”
When I hesitated, he added, “You don’t have to like me as a person to be attracted to me, Miss Clair. Are you attracted to me?”
Before I could respond, Dallon wrapped an arm around my waist, leaning down close enough to kiss me, and I involuntarily moved closer. He pulled back and smirked.
“Oh, yes you are, Miss Clair.”
I glared at him and tried to pull away, but he held his arm firmly around my waist.
“I like you as well. But not just for your body. Do you trust me on that?”
I bit my lip.
“Answer me, Amy. I don’t like being ignored.”
“Yes,” I said softly.
He pulled me into his embrace and kissed the top of my head. “Tell me what you need,” he whispered into my hair. “Tell me how I can convince you to try.”
Dallon had said that I was dangerous to his health, but the truth was, he was dangerous to mine. There was nothing he had to do to convince me; I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since our photo shoot.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he continued, gently kissing along my temple and then my forehead. “Tell me anything.”
Maybe it was the drink, but I suddenly felt like I needed his support to stand. When he asked the next question, the answers poured forth as if I had no control over my own mouth.
“Why are you so afraid, Amy?”
“Because of what happened the night of the photo shoot. When you… spanked me. And the pictures. I’m so confused.”
“It’s okay.” His hand moved to the back of my neck, the other on the small of my back, drawing small circles with both. “Because you liked it?”
My cheeks heated and I saw him smile.
“You didn’t know before then,” he said softly, presumably referring to my desires.
“I’m not even sure I know now.”
One side of his lips turned up. “Yes, you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t blush.”
As if on cue, I blushed again, suddenly feeling dizzy and warm. My heart was beating rapidly and my cheeks were burning.
He looked down at me with concern. “Are you okay?”
I put a hand to my head. My vision had started to blur. “I think I had too much red wine.”
“Your eyes are swimming.” In a second, he scooped me into his arms and strode out of the living room, past the dining room and into his bedroom. He put me down in front of his king-sized bed. It was modern with a leather headboard and a dark red duvet. It looked very… sexual.
Dallon began rummaging through his drawers while I climbed onto the end of the bed, no longer trusting my legs to stand. How had I let this happen? I hadn’t even had enough to get drunk, or had I? Maybe it was the nervousness. I wasn’t myself around Dallon King.
He finally turned around, holding up a black T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. “Put these on; you’re staying the night.”
“I… can’t,” I stammered, grasping his red duvet in my fist.
“You’ve had too much to drink, Amy. Arnold has gone home for the evening and I’m not putting you in a cab alone and you’ve made it clear you don’t want me going to your place.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said in a small voice.
“No, you’ll put these on and stay in the guestroom. I’ll leave you alone to change,” he said, ending the discussion. He placed the clothes down on the bed before leaving the room.
I looked down at them. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t be a strange request—I knew that. I’d spent the night with boyfriends and slept in rooms with guy friends on ski trips during University. But something about being this close to Dallon, wearing his clothes, made me both excited and nervous. Still, he didn’t need to know how much he intimidated me.
I quickly changed out of my clothes and pulled on his T-shirt and boxers. Both items were too large; the shirt completely hid my chest, and the shorts hung off my hips, but miraculously stayed on. I folded my clothes and put them on the dresser before leaving the room.
Dallon sat directly in front of me on the couch in the living room, holding a glass of wine. When he saw me, his eyes darkened.
“You look sexy in my clothes, Amy.”
I stepped forward and then hesitated, leaning against the doorframe, afraid to get much closer to him. “They’re a little big.”
He laughed. “I’m a little bigger than you. Come here.” He patted a spot beside him on the couch.
As I approached, he held up a glass of water. I accepted it and sat down, stretching my legs onto the coffee table. Even in my drunken haze, I noticed the way his eyes traveled up my legs before stopping at the shorts. He took another sip of his wine and swallowed hard.
“Your admission pleased me, Amy.”
I frowned questioningly.
“That you enjoyed it when I spanked you.”
Oh god, I’d forgotten about that. I looked down at my water, took a long gulp. He put a warm hand on my bare leg and my head jerked up.
“Don’t feel ashamed for being who you are.”
I licked my lips, unsure what to say.
He smiled. “I’m at war with myself here, Amy. Part of me knows I should wait until tomorrow to have this conversation, but another part of me has noticed that you are more forthright with me after a few drinks.”
“What do you want to talk about?” I asked hesitantly.
“I want you to work through it with me. That’s what lov
ers do.”
“We’re not… lovers.”
He smirked. “We will be.”
I shook my head as if trying to shake off the confusion. “Well what about you? Is that something you do with all your women?”
He frowned. “Be careful what you say, Miss Clair. A statement like that belittles you and disrespects me.”
My heart beat faster at his warning. Why was it that he was so hot when he was angry with me? “I mean, is that what you like? In bed?”
He responded without hesitation. “Yes.”
I nodded, having expected the answer but still surprised he’d given it to me so willingly.
“Is that what you like too, Amy? I want you to say it out loud.”
I looked down at my hands. “I don’t know,” I whispered.
He put a finger under my chin and tilted my head up. “Look at me when you speak to me, Miss Clair.”
“I don’t know,” I repeated, struggling to maintain eye contact with him. Why wouldn’t he just leave it alone?
“Your body told me that you did.”
“I know, but I might have just been nervous.”
He smirked. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Before I could react, he flipped me over his lap and pulled his boxers down my legs. I tried to sit up, struggling against him and demanding that he tell me what he was doing, even though I already knew.
“Shh.” He ran his hand over my bare skin slowly, sensually. His left arm was pressed against the small of my back, holding me down firmly. “Tell me how you feel right now.”
In response, I squirmed below him.
His hand came down sharply, and I cried out but stopped struggling. I grasped the blanket and pressed my face into it, grasping the material tightly. He began rubbing where he had spanked me, soothing the pain. “Answer me, Amy.”
“Angry!”
“Is that all?”
“Embarrassed,” I added in a small voice.
“Hmm.” He began to trail light fingers along my skin. “Tell me what you thought when you received the picture. The truth. If you don’t, I’ll spank you again.”
“The same. Angry and embarrassed. But also… surprised. By how I looked.” I was speaking quickly, my breathing coming out in pants.
