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“The third C is as important as the others. I will be committed to you. I’m not like my father. If you walk down that aisle to me, you will always have my fidelity. You will be my honored, treasured wife. You will never give more than you receive in return.”
She gripped her shoulders. “And the BDSM thing… I’ll find out more about that this weekend?”
“That is my intention. Yes.”
“Parts of it scares the hell out of me.”
“Let me throw a fourth C your direction. Communication. You will always have a safe word. We will discuss everything. If something is off-limits, it’s off-limits.”
“You said you like to show off your subs.”
The pitch of her voice had risen a bit, so Rafe sat back and propped one knee on the opposing ankle, trying to put her at ease.
“Is that negotiable?”
“Everything is. I’d want to know what made you uncomfortable. Perhaps you had conditions that would make it tolerable for you.” She’d been scandalized at the Bluewater Grill when he asked her to run the rose’s dangerous stem across her bared skin, but she’d done it. And there’d been a flush of excitement on her cheeks. “If you don’t want to scene in a club, that’s fine. We can confine our activities to private spaces. I’d invite you to visit the Retreat, or my other club, the Quarter in New Orleans. If you said no, I’d ask if it was okay for me to still attend, and we could negotiate the terms of that as well, understanding that your views might change or evolve over time.”
She scowled, and an intriguing note of possession crept into her voice as she said, “I wouldn’t want you playing with other women.”
“Understood.”
“That doesn’t mean you agree.”
“Perhaps you’d like to watch a demonstration live so that you have more information to judge your request?”
“If we…if we were to move forward, you would never put your hands on anyone else.”
So his sweet Hope had claws. Her responses were more those of a woman who was considering a relationship than one who was thinking about it in abstract terms. “There’s only you, Hope.”
She exhaled. Until her shoulders rolled forward, he hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, revealing how much his answer mattered. She’d revealed a vulnerability she’d been trying to hide. In that moment he vowed to always make her certain she was secure with him. “Come here,” he invited, keeping command out of his voice. This had nothing to do with her being a sub, and everything to do with caring for the emotions of the woman he hoped to marry.
“Your chair is too small for both of us.”
“That’s what makes it perfect.”
Still, she hesitated, even when he extended his hand.
Finally, after a long sigh, she erased the distance between them, demonstrating her trust. Rafe took it from there.
He uncrossed his legs and eased her onto his lap, pulling her against him, tucking in the borrowed shirt, cradling her body.
At first, she kept her body rigid. Though tempted to rush her, he didn’t. Over the space of several heartbeats, she allowed herself to relax against him. He drew in her signature lilac scent. Then he sensed something else in her. Wistfulness, perhaps? The unfurling of trust? A slight breeze ruffled her hair, and he stroked it back. “Sweet Hope. Nothing will be more important to me than you, than the success of our relationship. Not ever. I want you as my sub. Has there been anything you hated so far?”
“Other than Tony’s allergy attack?”
“Fair enough.” He grinned, and her lips twitched in response.
After a minute, she inhaled before admitting, “I can’t stop thinking about the things we’ve done, how naughty some of them were, and how much I wanted more.”
More? His new favorite word. “Even the denied orgasms?”
“Those are the worst. So frustrating, so annoying. I’ve never crawled out of my skin, needing to come before. Which is your point, I think.”
“Driving you wild is my point.”
“It worked. When I did orgasm… God, Rafe, part of me can’t believe I’m telling you this. No one has asked me to have a frank discussion about sex. I’ve just…done it, you know?”
