Ten.
Thirty.
One minute.
His shoulders trembled.
Two minutes.
Veins were starting to pop on his biceps.
Oh, Tyler wasdeadserious.
“You can sit up,” I said.
He pushed back to kneeling, head down, hands on his thighs.
“What is this? What are you doing?”
“I think I’m a brat.”
“Tyler, everyone thinks you’re a brat.”
“No, like brat kink.”
Oh.Ohhh. “So you reallydidlike it when I was mean to you.”
“I did.” He glanced up at me from beneath his brows, his gaze hot, searing. “And I think you did, too.”
My breath whooshed out of me, because, fuck.Was he right? I mean, Ihadfelt a little thrill zing through me whenever I got the better of him. Ihadbeen turned on against my will almost every time we were together, but I thought it was just because of the annoying spark of chemistry between us. And my thoughts about Tylerhadstrayed toward him needing to be put in his place a time or two. But there was no way to know for certain whether I was really into this until I put it to the test.
“Who said you could look at me?” I asked, my voice cracking like a whip.
Tyler snapped his gaze back down, and in that moment, I learned something very critical about myself: I liked when he did what I said. Like,liked it,liked it. And I didn’t know if that was because, so far, I’d been the one forced to do whatever he wanted, or if I just plain enjoyed having this big, loud,bossydouchebag of a man finally shut the fuck up and kneel there in silence.
My eyes dropped, and it was clear from the way Tyler’s towel was starting to tent up thatheenjoyed it, too.
“I’m so mad at you,” I told him.
“You have every right to be,” he said. “I’ve been the world’s biggest bastard.”
“How does it feel to find out it was all for nothing?” I asked, because I also wanted to be a little bit mean to him, now that I knew he could take it. I wanted him to pay for all the things he’d done and all the other things he almost had.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m numb. I think I might be in shock.”
“And you think brat play is somehow going to help?”
“All I know is that I don’t want to be in my own head right now. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to make decisions. I just want you to tell me what to do.”
“And you’ll do whatever I say?” I asked, feeling a little shocked myself. Tyler, just quietly doing whatever I told him to? No way. This had to be some cruel, elaborate prank. One finalfuck youbefore he disappeared out of my life forever and never faced the consequences of his actions or tried to make amends for what he’d done.
He nodded.
“So if I said crawl over here and kiss my feet, you’d—”
Oh, dear god, the man was crawling right across the grubby hotel carpet, shoulder muscles rolling, back flexing, head down like he’d been a very bad man and was ready to beg for forgiveness. I was absolutely going to draw this next, because I never wanted to forget the sight of so much languid power brought low in supplication, even if itwasa prank.
He stopped when he reached me, the towel barely hanging on, and brushed his lips over the top of my foot. I’d been ready to turn down the A/C a few minutes ago because I was cold. My body was plenty warm now, humming with energy and awareness, my nerves firing on overdrive.
