lean into what I’m about to say, and she doesn’t disappoint. “Isn’t it hotter this way? Being unable to help yourself, your fingers shaking as you undo one button after another, even though your head is screaming no.”
“No.” The word is a small gasp.
I shift closer to her. “Think about it—really think. Are you craving my loss of control? Or your own?”
She bites her lip.
I meet her gaze, which is now slightly aghast and glassy. “I can make you lose control, if you’ll let me.”
A small shake of her head.
“Unbutton.”
Her fingers come up to play at the top button. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
I jut my chin toward the big house. “You’re free to go anytime. But I think you’ll like my tongue on your clit more than tossing and turning in a cold, empty bed.”
Her finger circles the button between her breasts, indecision flickering across her features in the moonlight.
“Try it and see what happens.” I smirk again. “I can’t promise you’ll like it, but I can assure you you’ll come hard enough that I’ll have to cover your mouth to stifle your screams.”
Cat
My head is a roar of conflicting thoughts—no, yes, no, yes, yes, yes—playing a symphony in my head.
It’s dangerous.
Reckless.
Wild.
This isn’t me. It’s the woman I wish I was. But even though it’s a lie, I want to embrace it.
His eyes blaze in the darkness, waiting—like he’s a hunter—and it makes me shiver.
I stall, unable to come to grips with a decision. “Why might I not like it?”
“Because when I show you what a slut you can be for me, and me alone, you’ll feel vulnerable.” He leans closer and breathes out. “Powerless.”
Yes, I want that, although I don’t know why, considering how powerless I already feel in my life. I hate that I want something wrong.
He continues, weaving a spell around me with his honeyed voice. “I can make you do things you’ll hate as much as you love. I can make you crave them.”
I feel like I might hyperventilate. “That’s awfully arrogant of you.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t make it not true.”
I’m nervous and excited and squirming. But I can’t force the decision past my lips, so I keep questioning, hoping his answers will push me in the direction I want to go. “Is this some sort of weird control thing?”
“I think I know what you want.”
“No, you don’t, or else you’d give it to me.”
He chuckles. “You think because I don’t lunge at you it means I don’t want you, when there’s nothing further from the truth.”
I can feel the door handle at my back. “The evidence speaks for itself.”
“It would, if you were looking at it honestly.”
“What does that mean?” The question is out before I give myself time to think about whether I want the answer. It sits between us, loaded and heavy.
Everything about him looks easy, a stark contrast to the tension riding me hard. It makes me want to hit him.
His head tilts, as though he’s contemplating me. “You want to do battle with me. You want the war. It’s just that the battles are not what you’re expecting. They don’t match the fantasies in your head. It’s your expectations you need to let go of.”
Is that true? That can’t be true. “You don’t know me.” My words are breathless and filled with a longing that embarrasses me.
“Answer one question, and think about it carefully, all right?”
This sounds dangerous, but I can’t stop now because I’m caught in limbo, unable to make the leap, but unable to go.
I nod. “I’ll try.”
“Since we’ve been sitting here.” He waves a hand around the small space. “Have you been thinking of unbuttoning that blouse, spreading your legs, and waiting for what happens next? Or have you been sitting here thinking of me pulling you on top of me and pulling off my belt before fucking you as fast as I can?”
I look away, out the window. Oh…
“Well?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie.” He studies me so intently, I have to look away. “Tell me—have you even once thought of me pushing you down and taking you? Or have you been caught in this moment, dreaming about what it will feel like to undo that first button?
How does he know? And why is he like this? Why can’t he just be easy like a normal man?
A flush creeps over my neck and the compulsion to answer with the truth fills my throat. It sticks on the way out. “Undoing.”