Cuffs - Cara Lockwood Page 0,15

do this. And you’re not going to quit now just because I stopped paying attention to you for half a second.”

“Excuse me?” Fire burned in her belly. Thoughts of him putting her over one knee vanished. “This isn’t about you not paying attention to me.”

“Really? Because I get one phone call and you’re suddenly angry that I’m not talking to you? Seems like maybe you do want my attention.” He flashed her that dimple again, that smug dimple, and she almost wanted to claw it out of his face. He was turning the tables on her. Not fair.

“You’re ridiculous. I don’t even like you.” She balled her hands into fists.

“So why are you staring at my chest like it’s a steak, then?” He grinned. “Eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

Mags swallowed, hard. So he’d noticed that. Dammit. Even worse, she could feel a blush creeping up her neck. This man was making her blush.

“So why don’t I lie back in this chair and you go back to fantasizing about what the rest of my body looks like naked and finish up this tattoo?”

“You’re an ass.” A perceptive one, but still. An ass.

“You can see that, too. If you just finish up here.” He nodded at his arm.

She slapped his bare arm. He didn’t flinch. She slapped it again, harder this time, and then he grabbed her wrist. Held it tight. She knew he was strong. Now he proved it. Her wrist was in a vise grip, yet it didn’t hurt. He knew how to hold her just right, and that made her think about other ways he might bind her. Contain her. She sucked in a breath, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“Don’t hit me,” he warned her, voice low, eyes dangerous.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll hit back.” His jaw twitched again. His mouth formed a straight, serious line. And it sent another shiver of anticipation that ran straight between her legs.

“I thought you don’t punch girls.” Her voice came out breathy. He pulled her even closer.

“I don’t,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But spanking...that’s something else.” A slow, deliberate smile curved the edges of his mouth. She almost wanted to laugh, except the serious flicker in his eyes made the laugh die in her throat. “I think I need to put you over my knee.”

She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“Should I bend over then?” She wanted her voice to sound strong, defiant, but it almost came out as...meek and ready. Submissive. Her heart pounded in her chest as her brain realized what her body already knew: part of her wanted him to tell her yes.

He stared at her for a half beat.

“No,” he said. “Not yet.”

Not yet. The words hung there. A threat or a promise? Now she wasn’t even sure if a spanking would be a punishment...or a pleasure. Maybe it would be both.

He let her wrist go, and the fresh air hit her skin. “Get back to work.”

Cool disappointment kissed the back of her neck.

“Okay,” she said, giving in as she stared at the floor, struggling to contain the desire that flared in her chest.

Gael slid wordlessly back into the chair, watching her with intent, as if gauging whether or not she’d misbehave. Hell, she didn’t even know herself what she’d do. Mags fetched another pair of rubber gloves and tugged them on, deliberately not looking at the expansive of perfect skin before her as she struggled to push down the desire that threatened to overtake her good sense. Had she wanted him to go Neanderthal on her? Drag her back to his cave and show her what a man he was? What the hell was wrong with her? Had she all of a sudden decided what she wanted wasn’t a Harley-riding bad boy, but a Christian Grey type? No. She knew that was all fantasy, anyway. Suits had pure missionary sex with the lights off, didn’t they? Besides, she liked tough guys, guys who were a little rough and gruff, but she’d never wanted to be spanked before.

Not until Gael Quinn had suggested it. Somehow, in his low, commanding voice, it had sounded like something she needed.

Ridiculous.

She picked up her equipment, flipping the switch, the familiar hum of the needles vibrating in tandem feeling like music to her ears. She sat down and focused on the missing edge of the bird’s wing, gently following the line that would complete the final feather. She worked in silence beneath Gael’s knowing stare. She’d revealed something of herself just then, and