I swallow hard, my body suddenly hot and needy at the thought of us role-playing a scene where he makes me ‘pay’ for any hurt I’ve caused him. ‘Yeah.’
‘So, what are you saying? That you want me to punish you for it?’ He quirks a suggestive eyebrow.
I raise an amused eyebrow back, relieved that we’re back to our jokey banter. It was all feeling a bit too emotionally heavy there for a second and I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with any more angst today. ‘I guess you could. If you wanted.’
His grin is wide and genuine now. ‘I’d be okay with that,’ he says in a low, gruff voice. ‘You still have the same preferences as before?’
‘Yep.’
‘Any constraints?’
‘Hopefully,’ I say, happy to be teasing him again now.
I shove any lingering thoughts of deeper emotions right out of my head.
‘Funny,’ he quips. ‘I mean, are there any new boundaries I should know about? Anything you’re not keen on?’
‘Nope. Same, same.’
He nods. ‘Okay.’
Then it’s like someone’s flicked a switch in his head because his expression turns serious and he gets up from the bed and turns to stand in front of me, a look of deep contemplation on his face, as if he’s assessing my body from head to toe, deciding what he’s going to do to me.
I immediately flush with excited heat.
It’s like my body remembers the cues, without me having to consciously think about it.
Not that I’mnotthinking about it.
Because I am.
I’msointo the idea of this. I need it.
‘Wait here until I tell you what I want you to do.’
I do as he says, my pulse starting to race as I watch him walk away from where I’m sitting, looking around the room for something.
I have no other option. There’s no way I could make myself get up and leave right now anyway. I want to continue this sex-only fling with him too much.
And I wanthim.
I remember very clearly now why I was so befuddled by him five years ago, despite the sensible side of my brain telling me he wasn’t someone I should risk my heart on.
It’s still nudging me. Saying this all seems too good to be true.
But I’m not here for reality, I remind myself.
This is pure escapism.
12
CHLOE
Kit returns to where I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, my knees jiggling nervously, with what appears to be the silk belts from two kimono-style dressing gowns that were provided with the room and a pair of slippers with rubber soles.
My skin tingles all over in anticipation of what’s about to go down here.
‘I’m going to have to improvise, Dasher. Which, luckily for you, I’m very good at.’
