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When he drew back, her wrist was still manacled in his grasp. “I’ll add that to the list, too,” he said.
“What list?” she managed.
“All the infractions a Dom tracks on a sub. To punish her later.”
Chapter Eight
Like so many things with him, her brain didn’t totally compute what he was talking about, even as her body, suddenly weak-kneed and restless, seemed to know exactly.
In an attempt to gain some balance, she latched onto the most incredulous part of it. From the light smile on his lips, she suspected the attempt would be futile. “You said you’ve been keeping this list since you first started thinking of me…like that.”
“Yep.” Those gleaming eyes didn’t leave hers, didn’t let up a bit.
“Written down, or just in your head?”
“Written down. In a journal with a leather-tooled cover. I’ll show it to you sometime. Maybe use it to leave more marks on your ass. According to my men’s fitness magazine, journaling helps a man better understand his own needs.”
She was leaning against the front door, and he had his hand braced over her head. Somehow his other hand was on her hip. He’d chastised her for having no memory of her drive here. He made her lose her sense of her own body the same way. It moved in alignment with him, no steering or direction required from her own mind.
“Was it the wedding when you started thinking of me…that way?” Her voice was uneven.
“Nope. It was the ice cream shop, after we lost the game with Taylor High. You nipped the top off my cone of soft serve to make me laugh.”
“I was fourteen years old.”
“Yep. I was sure I was going to hell for the thoughts I had the rest of that night.” He touched the charm on her necklace. “This goes on the list, too. You opened it before your birthday, didn’t you?”
“I texted you a very nice thank you on my birthday.”
A flash of teeth. “That’s not a no. You get flustered when you’re avoiding a direct lie, Celeste Joy.”
She closed her hand over it and the cross. “You didn’t wrap it well. It fell out.”
He stroked her sternum, caressing her cleavage through the T-shirt. Nerve endings awoke in that crevice, spreading over her breasts.
“How did you know?”
“Rory said you hated to wait to open gifts.”
“Rory was such a dick.”
His grin deepened. “He’d be the first to agree. He’d also be glad you put it in the past tense. I think Daralyn helped smooth out his rough edges.”
He touched her hand, still gripping the necklace. “Your password, DadTR@285. Tell me about that. This time, you better not lie.”
“You’re asking me to crack open a lot of myself. Too much, too soon. It’s been a stressful week. Exams pending, discovering this whole Dominant and submissive thing, and…”
She couldn’t form the words. It couldn’t be part of this. Fortunately, he helped.
“I don’t think ‘discovering’ is accurate. You know a little more than that about it. Even if you haven’t pursued it actively.” His eyes got a sharper gleam. “Have you?”
She raised her chin. “I’m not a submissive person.”
“That answers the question.” He nodded, as if to himself. “You’re a submissive. It’s an orientation, not an adjective. Sometimes just sexual, and sometimes far deeper than sexual. People outside the lifestyle mix up the distinction. Same goes for a sexual Dominant. While there might be romance book Doms who are powerful billionaires, a sexual Dominant can be anything, including a secretary or construction worker.”
“Or a firefighter.”
“Or a firefighter. Tell me about the password.”
