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“Do it right?”
“Which doesn’t mean we wouldn’t have to set up some ground rules. I always think knowing the rules up front makes most things work out better in the long run.”
“I know you’re quite fond of keeping communication channels open.”
Along with that nervous flutter in her voice, he was almost certain he heard a small thread of annoyance, and he nearly chuckled aloud. Composing himself so that he sounded as serious as a TV evangelist, he regarded her gravely. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking . . . It’s obvious this is going to be a stressful experience for me.”
Her head shot up, and she was so clearly astonished it took all his self control not to laugh. “Why should it be stressful for you?”
He gave her a look of wounded innocence. “Honey, that’s got to be obvious. I’ve been pretty much a stallion from puberty on. Since I’m the experienced partner, and you don’t have any experience as far as I can tell that goes much beyond having that podiatrist kiss your foot, I’m going to be completely responsible for making sure your initiation into the sexual arts goes right. There’s a possibility—farfetched, I admit, but still a possibility—that I could mess everything up and you’d be traumatized for life. That sort of responsibility weighs heavy on my mind, and the only way I can guarantee everything goes right for you is to take absolute control of our sexual relationship from the very beginning.”
She regarded him cautiously. “Exactly what would that involve?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to shock you so much you’ll decide to back out before we even get started.”
“Tell me!”
Her voice had risen to something approaching a shriek, and he could no longer remember what his earlier bad mood had been about. Her impatience reminded him of someone who’d matched the first five numbers on her lottery ticket, and was waiting to hear the last one.
He tilted the brim of his Stetson back with his thumb. “The thing of it is, for me to make certain this is going to be
a good experience for you, I’d have to pretty much take control of your body right from the beginning. I’d have to own it, so to speak.”
She sounded vaguely hoarse. “You’d have to own my body?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Own it?”
“Yep. Your body’d belong to me instead of to you. It’d be just like I took a big ole Magic Marker and put my initials on every little part of you.”
Somewhat to his surprise, she seemed more stunned than insulted. “It sounds like slavery.”
He managed to look hurt. “I didn’t say I’d own your mind, honey. Just your body. There’s a distinct difference, and I’m surprised you can’t see that without me having to point it out.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “What if you force me—or my body, depending on how we’re looking at it—to do something I don’t want to do?”
“Oh, I’ll definitely force you. No doubt about it.”
Her eyes widened in outrage. “You’ll force me?”
“Sure. You’ve got years of catching up to do, and we only have a limited amount of time. I won’t harm you, sweetheart, but I sure will have to force you, or we’ll never get to the advanced stuff.”
He could see that remark had just about done her in. Her eyes were big gray pools and her lips had parted. Still, he had to admire her fortitude. One thing he’d figured out about Gracie right from the beginning. She had guts.
“I—uh—I’m going to have to think about this.”
“I don’t see what there is to think about. It either sounds right to you, or it doesn’t.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Sure it is. Believe me, honey, I know a lot more about this than you do. The best thing right now would be for you to say, ‘I trust you with my life, Bobby Tom, and I’m gonna do whatever you tell me to.’ ”
Her eyes snapped. “That’s taking control of my mind, not my body!”
“I was just testing to make sure you understood the difference, and you passed with flying colors. I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” He went in for the kill. “What I really want you to do now is open the rest of the buttons on that vest.”
“But we’re outside!”
