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“I believe you,” I told him. And that was the truth, as much as it astounded me. I was shocked at my ability to trust him so easily, a man I barely knew. But even so, we weren’t finished just yet. “There’s still more we need to talk about, Alex.”

“What other questions do you have?”

“I don’t have more questions, per se. Just a few things we need to sort out. You gave me an idea last night when you talked about women requiring non-disclosure agreements.” I leaned down to retrieve a pen and the list I made from my purse on the floor by my feet.

“Is that what you want?”

He sounded surprised.

“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s more like a set of rules to follow if we are going to…um, do this.” I was suddenly second-guessing my stupid idea. I thrust the computer printout at him before I could change my mind. “Here—I made a list. Just read it.”

He took the list from my outstretched hand and reclaimed his seat next to me on the sofa. He silently read over the catalog of stipulations. When he finished, he looked at me, mild humor sparkling in his eyes.

“So, that’s it?” he asked, placing the paper on the coffee table.

He was trying to suppress a smile, but I ignored him.

“I think I covered the basics. You just need to write down any requirements you might have. See, I left you a space right here,” I finished all business-like, pointing to the blank lines on the paper with my pen.

“You didn’t include anything about your limitations, Krystina. That’s sort of important,” he said dryly. “My interests in the bedroom aren’t exactly mainstream. Can you think of anything you might be opposed to?”

Blood. Pain.

I looked searchingly into his eyes, trying to find the right words to explain what I was feeling without exposing my underlying fears.

Stop it—he said he wouldn’t hurt you. Trust him.

“Um…I don’t know. Like what?” I asked, attempting to be open-minded.

“You did the research. How about restraints⁠—”

“No—don’t say it!” I burst out. I was suddenly seized with overwhelming panic at the idea of actually discussing this out loud. “Write it down, please. It will make it easier for me.”

He appeared amused, although he didn’t actually laugh. He didn’t have to—the look on his face alone spoke volumes and told me I was being ridiculous. I felt like a teenager trying to avoid the sex talk with a parent. It was absurd. My only rational defense was, if I read his not-so-normal preferences, I would be able to keep my composure if anything surprised me.

“Okay, I’ll play this your way if it means I get to strip you out of those clothes,” he said suggestively with a wink. However, his blue eyes were alight with laughter, the truth in them cutting through his words, as he picked up the list again.

I should have been upset he found the situation funny, but I wasn’t. Even his salacious remark didn’t register on my radar. I could only focus on one thing—the ball of nerves bouncing around in the pit of my stomach as I waited for him to write.

But he didn’t write. Instead, he just sat there watching me. It was maddening.

Why isn’t he writing?

“What are you waiting for?” I practically snapped. My nerves were shot.

“Can I have the pen, please?”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, feeling foolish. “Yes…here. Sorry.”

I passed him the pen I had been clutching tightly in my hand. Instead of taking it from me as any ordinary person would, he used two hands to remove it slowly from my fingers, letting his touch hesitate ever so subtly over my knuckles. My heart fluttered from the intensity of that one little action.

Who knew handing someone a pen could be so frigging erotic? I may never look at a pen the same way again.

“You’re blushing,” he said huskily, a crafty smile on his face. My hands immediately went to my face. He reached up to pull them away and ran a finger along my jawline. A shiver raced down the length of my spine.

After a moment, he dropped his hand. The hungry look that had flashed in his eyes was now gone, and his face turned serious. He looked down at the paper in front of him.

“BDSM is all about limits, Krystina,” he said, getting back to business. “There are hard limits, and there are soft limits. It’s important that we have an understanding. For example, I won’t do anything with fire or electrical stimulation.”