“I’ve never . . . had anyone talk to me like that.”
Mara nodded. I searched her face for any sign that she was going to humiliate me, but she was taking me seriously. “Did you like it?”
I pulled at my hair, staring at my feet where I still stood at the counter. “Is it weird if I did?”
“Not at all,” Mara said. “There’s nothing wrong with something that feels good.”
Shame washed over me. A series of memories came flooding in from my relationship with Sydney. She humiliated me, but in a different way. She made fun of me for not being as dominant as she wanted. Told me I was weak and not a man. It got to a point where I could hardly talk when we had sex, afraid she’d weaponize anything I said. I just tried to do what she wanted. I got a lot of blowjobs because she said that’s what a real man should want.
And yeah, they’re great. But I also wanted to serve her. She just wouldn’t let me.
In fact, when I told her I wanted a divorce, she announced all those things to a room full of my friends. That was a real low moment. My friends didn’t speak a word about it. Hell, they probably didn’t believe her given my hockey reputation.
When Mara degraded me, though, it felt good. She was giving me something I needed, something to rebel against. She wasn’tjudging me for it. She was helping me. I’m not sure how she saw that in me, but it came so naturally.
I wanted more of it, but I was afraid to ask for it.
I’d zoned out for so long that Mara was almost done with her sandwich, so I scarfed mine down. I brought my focus back to Mara. It was such a relief to have her back in front of me, not passing out, not getting sick, in a place where I could support her.
“Dishwasher duty’s mine,” I said, snatching her plate.
I loved having her back in my house, but something about the whole interaction made my house slippers feel full of lead. This wasn’t permanent. She was a guest, not a permanent companion.
Mara stood and rounded the counter, resting one hand against it and crossing one leg at the ankle. “So, I had a lot of time to think.”
I blinked and clenched my teeth together. I’d have asked what she was talking about, but I damn well knew what it meant. “Yeah?”
Mara licked and bit her bottom lip. “And I think even though you can’t promise love, we should get married.”
I almost dropped the plate in my hand, letting it clatter to the countertop as I rushed toward her. “Thank god.”
I wrapped Mara up in my arms, and she hugged me back just as hard. She giggled. “Is this how you treat all the nannies you hire?”
I craned my neck to look down at her in my arms. “Not nanny. You’re my wife.”
Mara tipped her head from side to side. “Technically it’s fiancée.”
I rolled my eyes. “I am so sick of you already.”
“Liar,” Mara whispered against my lips with mischievous eyes. “You can’t get enough of me.”
She rose on her toes and pulled me down to her. This time, she wasn’t in a hospital bed. I could really feel her, letting my hands grip her waist, then roving down to her luscious hips. She was more brazen, gripping a fistful of my ass in a way that had me rocking against her.
I pulled away, breathless. “And you’re not doing it because you feel like you have to because of your job?”
“Shut up or I’ll change my mind,” she said, nibbling on my neck.
“Fuck me, that feels good.” I shook away from the haze. “But you’re sure?”
“Ask me one more time and I’m bending you over this counter and spanking the shit out of you.”
My mouth fell open and my eyes went wide. “Mara!”
“Surprised how much you like it?” she asked with a wicked grin.
“You’re fuckin’ dirty,” I rasped, coming in for another kiss.
This one was raw. Filthy. Nasty. Teeth and tongues and bites and pressing into each other. Mara grunted and then there was . . . a giggle?
