Me: Because I didn’t eat?
Dane: Because you ate cheese curds. When was the last time you ate?
Me: Uh…
Dane: Seriously?
Me: I have a bad memory.
Dane: My palm is twitching.
Me: ??
Dane: ??
Me: Are you saying you want to…
Dane: Spank you? Yes. One hundred percent.
I squealed quietly, as if he could hear me if I were too loud. Everything about Dane was intense. Even when he was joking, he was intense. I was an abuse victim.What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I like this? Why do I want this? This should scare me, but it doesn’t.
I’ve read enough dark romance books with werewolf daddies, mafia men, and Doms to know it isn’t scary. That it can be goodif done with the right person. The image of being sprawled over his thigh sent wetness pooling between my legs. Slick—again, and just for him.
Yep.
I wasn’t scared.
I was turned the fuck on.
Dane: Have I lost you?
Me: No.
Dane: Does getting spanked scare you?
Me: Not when I imagine you doing it.
Dane: Have you been spanked before?
Me: No, but…
Dane: But?
Me: But I’ve been hit before.
Dane: …
Me: TMI. I know. I’m sorry.
Dane: Don’t do that.
Me: ?
Dane: Don’t apologize to me.
Me: Oh. Okay.
Dane: You didn’t do anything wrong. Is he still in your life?
