This was her giving into her needs, her wants, all of the repressed desires.
Finally, footsteps came down the hall, and her heartbeat sped up by a hundred. It felt like the time she accidentally shot herself with epinephrine instead of B12 because one of the girls she played volleyball with had a peanut allergy and she also had B12 shots. She had crazy heart palpitations, shakiness, and dizziness. Sort of like now.
D appeared in the doorway, and the atmosphere shifted. An impressive figure backlit from the hallway. He filled the space and somehow looked…taller, broader, and more imposing. His stormy eyes tracked over her with a slow, proprietary hunger that left a trail of exhilaration in its wake.
“Sit down,” he instructed gruffly.
She did as he asked, lowering down to the bed. The moment her butt hit the mattress, he entered the room. Each stride was deliberate, predatory, and sent a jolt of bristling heat through her belly. There was a swagger in the way he moved, but it wasn’t cocky, not like most of the men she’d known. It was the movement of a man who was confident in his abilities to do…well, probably anything.
He closed the distance in three long strides. Jenna felt herself flush right up to her hairline. Her entire body was taut, every sense focused on what this man’s next move would be. He stopped an arm’s length away, letting the tension build, and the air between them simmered with it.
She sat perfectly still aside from her chest rising and falling. She was acutely aware of the crisp fabric of his shirt brushing her bare thighs and nipples, reminding her she’d decided to go commando. Now she was rethinking that. Did it make her seem desperate? He’d told her to take off her clothes. Was she just doing what he said?
All those thoughts dissolved the moment his hand touched her face. He gently ran his knuckles along her jawline. His hand tilted her chin up so her eyes met his. She felt her cheeks flame with heat.
“So pretty,” he rasped, almost reverently as he leaned down. Her entire body trembled with nerves. Just before his lips touched hers, he paused and pulled back. His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “If you want to stop, just say the word, any word.”
She couldn’t help but smile at his sincerity. It was clear that he mistook her trembling for nerves instead of anticipation. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. If she did, she feared she would beg, and then he wouldknowshe was desperate.
Jenna waited, heart stampeding, mouth watering. He stood over her, his stance measured and unhurried, studying her as if he were trying to read her mind. As if he wanted to puzzle out how to please her. She tried to recall the last time anyone she liked when it came to anything, not just sex, dinner, what to watch on TV, anything. She came up empty.
“What are your boundaries?” he asked, voice low but clinical.
The question landed like a stone in a silent pond. It rippled through her, jarring and unfamiliar.
“Boundaries?” she echoed, as if testing the word for the first time. Her default setting, learned from years living with a self-involved man, was to say nothing, until she knew exactly what answer he wanted.
She stared at her own hands, nervous and traitorous, twitching in her lap. She tried to remember how it went with Asher her first time, Blake’s dad. They were teenagers, in high school. There had been no talk, just hormones and instinct. Sex was good with them, but that was because Asher was good. He was very…alpha. He just knew what to do, and he did it. They didn’t need to talk, but when Asher talked, he wasn’t asking questions, he was telling her what he wanted and what to do, and that’s what she liked.
With James, communication was even less present, a silence so absolute it became a vacuum, sucking the pleasure out of everything.
D’s patience unsettled her more than any aggressivemove could. His entire being was intent on this moment, on her, on the answer to a question most men would never ask.
“I don’t know,” she replied. The confession felt ridiculous and raw. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
He took several steps back, shifted his weight, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Would you like to try?”
Jenna’s breath stuttered. She was pretty sure there was a script here she was supposed to follow—play coy, act embarrassed, giggle—but she couldn’t bring herself to do any of it. The heat in her gut was too real. The need in her chest was gnawing, desperate. She wanted this, wanted him, but not the way it used to be, fumbling and rushed, a mere transaction. She wanted to feel chosen, considered, cherished, maybe even owned, if only for an hour.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Oral? Giving or receiving?”
She almost laughed. This was the first negotiation she’d ever participated in where her pleasure was the subject. “Both,” she said, unable to hide the smile tugging at her mouth.
His lips twitched. He was pleased, or maybe just satisfied that she was taking it seriously. “What about being restrained? Blindfolded?”
Her body vibrated with nervous energy. She bit her lip, then let it go. “Yes,” she stated, her voice steadier now. “I think I’d like that.”
He nodded, as if each answer were being logged as he built a map of her desires. “Anal play?”
The words hit her like a spark to dry kindling. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks, and for a split second she wanted to crawl into the floorboards. But she held his gaze. “Never tried it.” She shook her head.
He nodded and opened his mouth to speak again. “An?—”
“But…I’d be open to it…to trying.”
His breathing switched, growing shallow. “You would.”
