I clenched my jaw so hard I worried my molars were about to shatter. “I didn’t mean right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re still processing everything that happened last night.” Bracketing my hands on my hips so I didn’t reach for him, I spun around to face him, finding him red-faced and ready.
“You keep saying that, but you’re wrong.”
“You’re being bold, Silas,” I warned.
“I want a spanking,” he said again, taking a step toward me, encroaching on the precious untainted air I’d been desperate for.
He wanted a spanking, and I wanted to give it to him—there was no doubt about that. Silas was one of those men who was so naturally submissive, the fact he was also a masochist wasn’t anything less than a cherry on top. He was the kind ofman I’d spent most of my early adult life searching for before giving up and settling on nothing more than casual hookups.
I wanted to spank him more than I wanted my next breath, but I wanted to spank him more than once so I knew I couldn’t.
“Then let me tie you up,” I said.
He winced, a visible recoil and the look of defeat that flashed across his gorgeous face confirmed he finally understood that I was right. He wasn’t ready, even if he wanted to be.
“Is that a requirement?”
“No,” I told him honestly. “But until the idea doesn’t terrify you, I’m not going to touch you at all.”
Silas cursed under his breath and stalked out of my kitchen. His exit brought breathable air back into the space, and I took a desperate lungful of it before following after him back into the living room. I was relieved to find him in a chair again and not in the entryway lacing up his sneakers. I slowly sat down back beside him, propping my elbows on my knees and bringing our bodies close again. His resignation tempered some of my arousal, and I tentatively hovered one hand over top of his leg.
“Can I touch you?”
“Yes,” he rasped, and I slowly set my hand on his thigh.
He was slimmer than he looked, my fingers curling around to the inside of his leg when I spread them out. His muscles tightened, then relaxed, like he was unfurling beneath my touch, a reaction that did nothing to ease the ache that had developed between my legs.
“I want you to be fine, Silas,” I said, fingers flexing against his jeans. “I want you to be fine because I want to spank you. I want to tie you up. Tie you down.”
He inhaled sharply, swaying toward me.
“I want all of those things and more.”
“More?”
“More,” I repeated. “But only if they’re freely given, and you are… not free to give right now.”
“Why?” he asked, glancing up at me from beneath the fan of his dark and curled lashes. “Why me? Why now?”
He was closer to okay than I thought with a question like that, an intuitive understanding that something between us had shifted out of the shadows and into the light, and that neither of us were able to shove it back into the darkness. At least, not entirely.
“I like the way you felt in my arms last night,” I admitted.
It was simple.
It was honest.
“Is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
Silas made a thoughtful noise, and I squeezed his thigh tighter, drawing his attention to my face.
“I’ve always thought you to be intelligent, Silas, if not stifled by your employer.” I paused, and his nostrils flared at the mention of his father, but he didn’t argue the point so I continued. “You’re young, talented, attractive, and now that I know…”
