Page 91 of Bonds of Shame, Bonds of Lust

For a second, it occurred to me that I was a pediatrician about to square up with my hospital's board chair. A man who'd just told me I'd lose, in fact. Almost nothing about the evening had gone the way I'd pictured it. But what else in my life had been predictable lately?

He moved the coffee table back with one hand.

"Where am I hitting you?" I asked.

"Anywhere. I won't move."

"You're not going to hit me back?"

"I'm going to catch your wrist before you hit me. That's what's going to happen. I want you to know that going in."

"Understood."

He stood in the middle of the room with his hands at his sides, and his shoulders dropped a notch, and he went loose, the kind of relaxation where the body has emptied itself of preparation. He looked like a man who could be preparing to take a nap or kill someone and you wouldn't know which until the last second. Brad used to watch UFC. I knew what it looked like when a man got ready by getting unready. Derek's version was nearly invisible.

"Whenever you're ready."

I threw the punch.

He caught my wrist before my arm finished extending. My wrist sat in his palm, warm, dry. His hand was large enough to close around with room to spare, and he let go almost at once.

I hadn't even seen his hand move.

"That was fast."

"It's supposed to be. Other one."

I tried the other one. He caught it. I tried the right again. He caught it, and now he had both my wrists, one in each hand, at the height of his chest. The grip was firm and entirely without intent.

Something ignited under my belly, and a thrill of fear came with it.

"See?"

"You're using both hands to hold me."

"Yes."

"So, you're open. I could kick you."

He looked at me. "I could put both your wrists in one hand and still have a hand free."

He said it as a fact, not a threat. He was just that strong.

"Prove it."

"Really?"

"Yes, I want to see."

He held my eyes for a moment, then his right hand moved quickly to his left, and just like that, both my wrists in his left hand. His right hand at his side. He could put that hand anywhere. He didn't look bored anymore, he looked predatory.

It detonated in me.

Intense almost painful clenching in my pussy. The arousal spread up and out in waves, and by the time my brain came back, I was already swollen and soaked.

I'd stopped breathing for a few seconds. I started again, and it made a small sound in my throat. He heard it. He'd spent years listening for sounds that small.

I knew what the feeling was now. But it was worse because I couldn't blame it on anything. That feeling had followed me here, and it felt exactly the same. No, it felt stronger.