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More interested in that than whether he had money? Sweet.
“I tend to be dominant in bed. I’m not a Dominant. But yes, I’m into kink.”
She mulled that over in silence for a few miles and he wondered what she was thinking. He’d never wished he could read a woman’s mind before.
“Can I have one of the candy bars?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know. Is it going to ruin your dinner?”
She grimaced and helped herself, holding the bag open longer than it should have taken to choose the Snickers she withdrew. Curious kitty wanted to see if he was joking about the condoms? Well, they were there for her to look at.
“You’re pretty bossy outside of bed too,” she observed.
For a moment he let himself watch her put the tip of the candy bar in her mouth and bite off a piece. He could have sworn his stupid dick was watching, because it twitched with impatience.
“Some women seem to inspire that in me.”
“So you, like, tie girls up and spank them and stuff?” she asked far too casually.
The visual of doing those things to her pained him. “Only if they want me to. I enjoy vanilla too. It all depends on what my partner wants.”
The houses along the highway were becoming more sporadic, with longer stretches of trees in between. He watched the scenery, both because it was beautiful country and he desperately needed to distract himself.
It was amazing that there were still such large pockets of wilderness in America. A man could lose himself. But it was the girl in the seat next to him who held all of his attention.
“I . . . Sometimes I have fantasies about things like that,” she admitted, whispering like someone might overhear. “I’ve never told anyone. Not even my friends.”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “I don’t think anyone is completely vanilla. It’s all a matter of how adventurous you are and whether you have a partner you trust to keep your secrets.”
“I guess so.” She finished the candy bar and stuffed the wrapper back into the shopping bag. “Maybe that’s why I’m no good in bed.”
“Because you’re afraid of doing what you want?”
“I do what I think a guy wants while trying to suck in my stomach and look pretty. It’s like acting, and I don’t think it’s supposed to be.” She sighed and leaned back against the seat. “I’ve never asked anyone for what I really wanted.”
“No?”
“No.”
“What would you ask for, if you thought they wouldn’t judge you for it?”
She covered her eyes with her hand. “Do I seriously have to answer that without the help of alcohol?”
“Up to you,” he conceded. “You seemed to like what happened in the fitting room—or was that acting, too?” He knew it hadn’t been—not the way her body had reacted—but he wanted to hear her admit it.
She squirmed slightly in her seat as she frowned at the view out the windshield. “I liked it when you pulled my hair and made me feel trapped. Only because I knew you’d stop though, if I asked you to.”
So trusting so soon. He was flattered.
“Yes. I’ll always stop if you say ‘red,’ or if I get the feeling things have gone too far, or I can see you’re not really feeling safe.”
She turned and studied his face. “So what we talk about in car therapy stays in car therapy?”
“Yes, an
d I expect the same respect from you.”
“Deal.”
