Page 178 of The Best Shot

I blinked. There are turns in a conversation a man can see coming. That was not one of them.

“You like being tied up,” I reminded her.

“Uh-huh.”

“You do.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

“I get to make you feel good.”

Her face went flat. “That’s such bullshit.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

“You like watching me lose control.”

I didn’t say anything to that, mostly because denying it would have insulted us both.

“You like calling the shots,” she continued.

“You’ve never complained.” I tipped my head at her. “So what are we really fighting about?”

Her eyes went past my shoulder to the leather couch shoved against the wall, a sheet thrown over it to keep off the paint and dust, and stayed there a second longer than they needed to.

When she looked back at me, she said, “What happens if you’re not the one in control?”

I looked at the couch, then at the black bandana hanging off the handle of her camera bag. She followed the line of my attention, and her chin came up.

A smarter man would have let it lie. There was a version of this where I laughed and went back to the repairs.

“All right,” I said.

“All right?”

I crossed the room and worked the knot loose off the bag handle. Whatever I’d expected to happen when I walked into this room, it wasn’t my dick taking an interest in being challenged.

“You want a turn. Take it.”

She eyed me. “Just like that?”

“You asked.” I pulled my shirt over my head, tossed it toward the desk, then stripped the sheet off the couch and sat down.

“There’s a cord in the desk drawer,” she said.

“No.”

“No?”

“No rope.” I tied the bandana over my eyes and got the knot where I wanted it. “You don’t need it. I’ll sit where you put me and I won’t move.”

“You say that now.”

“Try me.” I stretched my arms along the back of the couch, hands loose against the leather.

It was quiet behind the blindfold. I couldn’t see what she was doing with her face, which I regretted immediately. Hadn’t realized how much I relied on that.

“Go on,” I said.