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He turned to face her fully, his eyes a mixture of amusement and concern. “Now you’re scared? What are you afraid of? I promise there are no rats or skeletons in there.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m scared of the way you make me feel.” Why was she telling him this?
He took a step closer, so close she could feel the heat from his body against hers. “And how do I make you feel?”
“Like I’m losing control.” It was barely a whisper, but she knew he’d heard. She stared at his chest, avoiding the disappointment probably written on his face.
“That’s the point.”
“I don’t like it.”
“No.” He put his finger under her chin to tilt her head up, then gazed into her eyes. “You love it.”
Chapter 8
If the glare had been meant to turn him to stone, her superpower only worked on his dick. At this point, keeping her training impersonal was an act. She’d completely charmed him.
How many times had he played with women at clubs and walked away without it becoming sexual? He couldn’t guess. But with Kate, he had to keep pushing away thoughts of how good she felt beneath him and how she was his, even though she tried to fight it. Or the helpless way she moaned when she came. How soft her skin was . . .
“You think I love losing control?” Her brow had lowered in a way that would have made a lesser man quail. Luckily for her, he knew who was in charge.
“Yes.”
“Well, I guess it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out if I’m here to become more submissive.”
“No, I meant that you love losing control to me, specifically.” He turned and walked into his dungeon, counting on her to follow out of spite now. Her courage was unlikely to fail her if she wanted to get the last word.
“Shit.”
She’d followed him in, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted when she caught sight of the room.
“What?”
“I didn’t expect it to be this . . .”
“This, what?”
“I don’t know. Classy? I’ve only ever heard about grungy basement dungeons—like the public one Janine goes to.”
He smiled. “Well, usually people’s private dungeons reflect their personal tastes. I don’t have fantasies about taking my subs in back alleyways or in cold warehouses. The one in town is designed for people who want their BDSM raw and edgy. Everything here was designed to please myself.”
“It actually looks like you had this place professionally decorated.” She ran her fingers over the fabric that swagged over the large four poster bed.
“Thank you.”
“Did you do it all yourself?”
“Yes. I was an artist.”
Her mouth quirked. “Was? You’re not anymore?”
Banner tried to think of the last time he’d picked up a pencil or paintbrush, but for the past six months the closest he’d come was doodling on the minutes at business meetings. He had a loft for one passion and a basement dungeon for the other. Meanwhile, although most people would consider them his hobbies, they were more real and important to him than what he did at the office every day. That was mostly a paycheck and a way to keep his family from starving.
“So where are all of the whips and chains and stuff? I mean, this looks mostly like a vanilla bedroom, albeit with some extra furniture.”
“Well, you know what that padded coffee table can be used for now.”
Her cheeks turned pink, and he thought of how obedient she’d been for him by the end of his inspection. Not tapping into that today was an exquisite kind of torture. All of the wasted potential frustrated a deep part of him. This cat-and-mouse situation they had going on couldn’t continue. He couldn’t keep training a woman he liked this much while knowing she was going to someone else. If Ambrose or Konstantin took her on he might be able to handle it. But seeing her collared to one of his best friends would be rough too. He kept waiting for her laugh to be annoying, or for her to chew with her mouth open, or anything he could cling to that would make her less desirable. Instead, her stubbornness and coltish awkwardness were endearing. Maybe they’d wear on him with time.
