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He pressed a finger to the space between his brows, closing his eyes and rubbing. “Cela, I’m not trying to be an asshole. But you don’t want to hear this, don’t need to.”
“No, I think I do,” I said, hurt already grinding my insides. Pulp. That’s what I became around him.
He sighed and clicked the door shut behind him. “Fine. Let’s just get it out there, then. I’m dressed in leathers because I’m going to The Ranch, a BDSM resort I belong to.”
I blinked. The words and letters filtered through my brain but didn’t line up to make any sense.
“BDSM?” I said, more to myself, only having a vague recollection of hearing the term before.
“Yes. Some still call it S&M.”
“Oh.” Oh. Pictures flashed through my mind. Scary ones. “So like . . .”
“I’m a sexual dominant,” he said, watching me, gauging my reaction. When I apparently still looked unsure, he added, “I like to restrain women, cause pain for pleasure, be in total control.”
A cold fist seemed to lock around my throat. Total control. Another “oh” was all I could manage. I’d known he was kinky but had never really let myself think through what that could entail beyond the threesomes.
He took a step toward me, his presence seeming to swallow up the entryway. “Which is why I haven’t called and asked you out again, why I’ve forced myself not to knock on your door the last few days, and why I’ve been playing music nonstop so that I don’t hear you in your room.”
I swallowed, trying to get my vocal cords to loosen. “I don’t understand.”
The edge of the kitchen counter hit my tailbone, and I realized I’d been backing up as he inched toward me, an instinctive response to his predatory movements.
His smile was grim, almost wistful. He stopped in front of me, the sliver of space between us sparking with something I couldn’t even identify. The scent of leather and soap hit my senses, making me want to close my eyes and hold on to the air.
“I know you don’t, angel. And that’s why nothing else can happen between us.”
I straightened at the finality of his tone, my hands clenching at my sides. “What? Because you think I’m some innocent young twit playing big-girl games?”
His eyes flashed with displeasure, and the strong urge to grab back my words we
nt through me—anything to get that look off his face.
“Cela, I suggest you don’t try to pick a fight with me. You know I don’t think you’re a twit or a little girl. But you are inexperienced and young. And what you saw of my dominance that first night was barely a peek, and I fought hard to keep it at that level.” His hands slid onto the counter, caging me in, his nearness stealing my functioning brain cells. “I don’t trust myself with you. Even when I was trying to be gentle with you the other night, I pinned you down, corrected you, was rougher than I intended. I can’t help myself. The dark part of me sees that innocence in you, that sweet yielding, and foams at the mouth—makes me wants to capture it for myself, to own it.”
With each word, each breath against my skin, my heartbeat climbed higher up my throat until it seemed like my whole head was pulsing. My lips moved, but nothing came out. I closed my eyes.
“Am I scaring you yet, Cela?”
Yes. My body seemed to be vibrating with it—like being caught in a panther’s line of sight and not being able to move. But something entirely different was bleeding into the fear, mixing with it and making my thoughts blur and my skin warm, making me want to stay right there.
I raised my gaze to him and homed in on his face, my eyes tracing over every contour, every angle, the fierce beauty there. Then I saw it—in a brief second where the hard shield slipped—a mirror reflecting the desperate ache pinging inside my own chest.
I was affecting him as much as he was me.
“You never asked me why I didn’t sleep with Pike,” I blurted.
He blinked as if someone had snapped a camera in his face. “What?”
“I know you assumed it was because I was still recovering from the night before, but that had nothing to do with it . . .” I paused, the right words proving elusive. “I didn’t have sex with him because I felt like the privilege should only belong to you.”
He closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring with a deep breath. “You’re not making this easy, angel. Not when you say things like that.”
On a surge of bravery, I reached up and slid my hands along his neck, pulling his forehead down to mine. His skin was fever hot against me. My voice was a soft rasp, nerves still constricting my throat. “Can you show me, Foster? Show me what you like?”
“Cela,” he groaned, his voice laced with gravel, taut. “Don’t.”
But I was rolling down a hill too fast to stop now. “Did you know I’ve been bitten by a mastiff or that I’ve groomed the meanest Shih Tzu the vet’s school had ever seen and ended up with stitches? Or that I grew up with a brother who made me spar with him so that I could defend myself? I could totally kidney punch you right now.”
