A lot.
Had the way things had unfolded been all his fault?
Debatable.
Jett, after all, was the one who’d invaded his room and taunted him. He’d just responded in the way he always did; by taking the upper hand.
Taking the upper hand, he groaned to himself.
Yeah. He’d done that. On her fine posterior.
Trask lowered his head to his guilty palms and huffed. He was so fucked.
But…there was no need borrowing trouble before trouble came down the stairs, so Trask bucked up and poured himself a cup of coffee that his father, thoughtfully, had already brewed.
He sat and took a sip, forcing himself to face his behavior of the night before.
What he’d done had been a first.
Not in the commanding/disciplinary department.No.He’d always enjoyed meting out a good dose of stimulating punishment before sex. It got his engine revving, and always did the same for his woman of choice.
What he’dneverdone before, was to pull that shit on someone who didn’t already have a heads-up on how he liked his foreplay. He’d always, in the past, found ladies whowere mutually on board with some spanking, some aggressive posturing, and some simple bondage.
Thathad only failed him once before.
Then last night, deviating from his vow not to open himself up to trouble again, he’d reverted to kind with Jett, and for that he felt a modicum of guilt.
Still, she’d gone along with things eagerly once he’d shown her how it was going to be.
Right.But she’d also complied with an unaccustomed sassiness that had assured him if shewantedto change things up, she could have.
She’d had him fucking enthralled.
Until she hadn’t.
When she’d beckoned him forward, letting him know without words that the penetration portion of the evening could proceed, he’d turned her down. And then when she’d said he could fuck her mouth…
Trask had uncharacteristically panicked. His brain had shorted out, swiftly overloading his circuitry and rendering his eager libido into nothing more than a pile of melted goo.
And a good thing, too. If something within him hadn’t set off that damned wake-up explosion, he would have fucked a woman who was the antithesis of everything he wanted in a partner; someone who would clearly be looking for more. Andthathad always been a hard “no” with him.
Which begged the question, what was up with this unexplained attraction? Jett was scattered. She was spontaneous. She was messy, and she had no filters; things that usually had him running the other way. But she’d somehow wriggled her way under his perimeter wires.
Trask sighed.
It was bad enough he’d have to put up with all that unsettling bullshit in the office once she began work. He’d damned well better not invite it into his bed.
So why couldn’t Trask stop thinking about her?
He glanced at the stairs for the dozenth time since he’d come down them a few minutes earlier. He hadn’t heard the shower running upstairs, nor had he heard the telltale creak of any floorboards.
What did he know? Maybe she was out cold; a sound sleeper even after years in the military, although she’d assured him differently.
He sighed, took another chug of his coffee, and looked up at the clock that had been in the same place on the wall since he was a small boy. The thing had certainly seen better days, it’s face discolored from age, its edges chipped from thrown balls and unplanned falls; marred by the glue that had been used to patch it back together. But he’d miss it terribly if his parents got a new one.
A hell of a metaphor.
Some things were meant never to be changed.
