after the fact, giving her a surge of near-terror and an inexplicable burst of laughter, captured somewhere under her breastbone. He put his hands on his push rims.
“Give me that bottle.”
She scampered in front of the table as he pursued, but she had to be quick. His current chair was designed for optimal maneuverability. She remembered the day he’d been working on it in the back shop of the store, how he’d explained it to her. He’d had the casters drawn to the inside of the main wheels, which made the chair less stable, but gave it a smaller width and minimal turning radius. Just like an experienced bike rider didn’t need training wheels or a heavier frame, instead preferring a stripped-down sports bike, an advanced wheelchair user like himself didn’t need the additional stability.
However, a small space was a small space, and it worked against him. It worked against her, too. She’d slipped by him into her bedroom, and that was where she made her mistake, because now he blocked the door. The only way out was the window.
He gave her an amused look as she eyed it. “Really?”
She shrugged, but realized he’d done it. He’d really made her feel better. The school stuff was still there, but he was right. It was just a bump in the road, not a major thing. And he’d said he’d go with her.
If he went with her, she could do it. Maybe she should be ashamed about that. Or maybe she could trust him when he said that it was nothing to be ashamed of at all.
Her bed was between them. She was considering her next move, which might be dashing over the top of it if he tried to come around, but then he took a different tactic. One she had a really hard time resisting, especially when the smile on his face gave way to something else. Something quiet and considering. Intent.
“Come here,” he said, holding out his hand.
When he used that tone, other things happened to her. Everything inside became still, and her thoughts and movements aligned, focused on what he was telling her. That was happening more and more, too, when she was around him.
Now she came out from behind the bed. Instead of taking her hand, he closed a hand around her wrist, above the bracelet.
“I should spank you,” he said quietly. “What do you think of that?”
She suspected he’d intended it to come out teasing, a joke. But her reaction wasn’t that way at all. That stillness expanded, even as her heart thudded a little more powerfully and her fingers curved over his on her wrist. Her breath was short and quick in her throat.
She’d never been spanked. She’d only seen it shown on TV, a parent doing it to prove they cared about a child by offering discipline, structure, love.
She also remembered the stories about him and his sister Les routinely wrestling as kids. Mostly it had been one-sided, him wrestling her to the ground when the mood took him. He’d said Les was a scrappy and dirty fighter, so once he had her down, he’d slap her ass, giving her a spanking like his parents, just to make her madder.
Thinking about those two things together gave Daralyn an odd mix of feelings, emotional and physical. Her fingers had tightened further over his, and his gaze had gone heated. It moved from her fingers, up to her parted lips.
“I think you like the idea,” he said. “I know I do.”
She couldn’t speak, but she couldn’t look away, and when he put pressure on his grip, his eyes on hers telling her what he wanted, she accepted his will. She lowered her gaze and nodded, just the slightest of movements.
After he locked his brakes, he brought her down over his lap. Slowly. She could sense he was watching her carefully, hardwired to determine if she had any negative feelings about it. She knew he cared about her, wouldn’t want to hurt her. She felt nothing but a desire for him to hold her like this, do what he’d threatened so playfully. But her response to it wasn’t playful. It wasn’t bad, either.
Only Rory could do take her from tears to an impulsive playfulness to something she couldn’t describe, but most everyone would think she couldn’t handle.
Her ponytail tumbled forward over her shoulder. He put one hand in the center of her back, below her shoulder blades. Her bra strap was under her shirt, under his palm,