Page 66 of Bared

And there was the line that sank a hook into her. Though he’d half expected it, the tense frown was no easier to witness—or address.

“Who’s your monster, Jayd?” He took care about the probe, wrapping it in a silken tone. Nevertheless, he betrayed his split nerves by rapidly running his thumb against his forefinger. “Anyone you’ve…met recently? Maybe someone who can be a bit domineering? And if so, maybe that certain person can help by talking things out with you?”

His fingers froze as soon as she erupted with a reaction. Her laugh was a brilliant burst on the air, full and free—and as riveting as her orgasm screams. He practically preened at being its inspiration, though he was confused as hell why.

“To be very clear, you were not the monster in my dream, Brickham.” She said it as if merely commenting on the rain instead of lifting the anvil that had been parked on his chest. “If anything…”

“What?” he prodded, as the anvil lowered close again.

A blush tinged her cheeks. He couldn’t say the same about the blood rushing his cock because of it. “If anything, Brickham…you were the one in my dream who was saving me.”

Now it was time to shatter the damn anvil.

Except for when his better sense crashed down in its place.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Pixie, I’m not the guy who likes coming to your bower and waking you up with a tender kiss.”

“And in case you have not noticed, Sir, it takes more than that to wake me up.”

Well, that sure as hell wasn’t helpful for the chaos beneath his fly. Still, something else sliced through his senses. A feeling so rare, he barely recognized it at first. “More? Like what?” Hope was such an odd commodity, he needed more validation for it. Her validation.

“Like…spankings with spatulas, maybe.”

She averted her eyes, but no way could she shield her darker flush. No way did Brick want her to.

“Go on,” he directed, now wishing the lounger was a dungeon throne. Hell, even a regular throne. Fuck it. He’d settle for a regular kitchen chair.

“Maybe…heart-shaped handcuffs would work too.” Her tone wasn’t so awkward. From any other woman, at any other time, he’d be celebrating that perception. But as she turned and took a step closer, still clothed only in her leggings and bra, he hit the opposite end of the spectrum. She was coming closer on a clear track of thought. He had to derail her from it. Quickly.

“And then spreading your legs for a near stranger?”

So shoveling more fuel into the engine was helping his cause…how?

“Not a stranger.” And neither, damn it, was her tentative touch across his knuckles. Her fingertips were like butterflies on his skin—and hornets along his dick. He was so swollen. So ready to be inside her again. “You were the good guy in the dream, remember?”

“Right,” he scoffed. “The good guy who likes cuffing you, stripping you, and then fucking you.”

Her touch became a full clasp. She curled her fingernails in, gouging his palm on purpose. “The good guy who made at least a hundred of my fantasies come true,” she whispered. “The very good guy who taught me there is nothing wrong about them, either.”

At once, a frown took over his face. “Who made you ever think you were wrong?”

“Well…everyone.” She said it as if he’d just noticed it was pouring outside. “The world at large.” With a fresh huff, she lowered to the foot of the lounger. “I am right…right? Nobody normal is supposed to want their sex like that.”

Brick lowered his knee but kept clutching her hand. “Like what?”

Yet another heavy sigh. “You know what I mean, Brickham.”

“Pretend I don’t.” He pushed at her backside with his calf. Damn, it was nice to have her so close. Only thing better than her between his legs would be him between hers. “It wasn’t a request, sweetheart.”

She pursed her lips, clearly debating what to say, if anything at all. “All right, fine,” she muttered. “There are things we are all taught, especially as women, to want from our lovers. And I admit, all of those things are nice…”

“But?”

“But I have always just craved…other things…too.”

She rushed that part out like a third grader finishing a book report. But a smile teased the corners of her lush mouth, encouraging Brick’s rejoinder.

“Other things. You mean, like what I did to you.”