Page 54 of Untamed Sinner

I can feel her watching me. I keep my breathing even, waiting. What is she doing?

My cock throbs, wanting to suggest an idea or two.

The mattress dips slightly as she sits on the edge. She’s silent for a long moment. "Hendricks,” she says, her voice soft and uncertain in a way I've never heard from her before.

I open my eyes.

She's wearing one of my black T-shirts. On me it’s fitted. On her it’s oversized, hanging to her upper thigh. Her hair is messy, falling loose around her shoulders. No makeup. No smirk.

"I need to ask you something," she says. Her hands rest in her lap, fingers twisting together—a tell I've never seen from her before.

I sit up, the sheet pooling at my waist. "Ask."

Her gaze flits over me and she takes a breath. As she releases it, she says, "I want you to fuck me."

The words land like a detonation. I don't move. Don't speak. It’s her ball, and she’s going to have to run with it.

She meets my eyes, and there's no game in her expression. No challenge—just raw honesty. “I want you. I've wanted you since the moment you walked into the kitchen at Blackthorn Ranch, and I'm tired of pretending I don't."

My jaw tightens. My cock hardens more, pressing against the sheet, but I ignore it. This is important.

She fidgets with the edge of the sheet. "Are you going to say something?"

"I’m waiting for you to finish."

She meets my gaze with her typical forthrightness. "When I was taken, I had so many regrets. Things I thought I’d get to later, things I thought I had time to experience. Then my life changed in the blink of an eye. So when I got free, I made myself a promise. I wasn’t going to do that anymore. I wasn’t going to spend the time I had left wondering what would’ve happened if I’d taken a chance. I’m not going to lie awake ten years from now wondering what would have happened if I’d been brave enough to choose you.”

Every thought in my head goes silent.

Mandy gives me the most vulnerable smile I’ve ever seen on her. “No regrets, Hendricks.”

For once, she isn’t daring me. She’s asking me.

I reach out slowly, giving her time to pull back. When she doesn't, I cup her jaw, my thumb brushing over her cheekbone, where the little sickle-shaped scar is. "If we do this, it's not going to be soft."

"I don't like it soft.” With courage I haven’t seen in many men—and that’s saying something given my background—she says, “My time in Turner’s ring fucked me up. Pleasure and pain go hand in hand for me. I can’t come softly. If that’s not going to work, tell me now.”

“Amanda, everything about you works for me.”

“Thank God.” She exhales long and deep.

My thumb traces her lower lip. "But you need to understand what you're asking for."

"Tell me."

I hold her gaze. "I'm going to give you exactly what you ask for. No hesitation. No holding back. And when you’ve had enough, you're going to tell me."

Her breath hitches. "What if I don’t have enough?"

My thumb drags over her bottom lips. "Then we’re going to be here awhile."

The certainty in my voice makes her pupils dilate. "What else?" she asks.

"You tell me what you need. What you want. What's off-limits."

She blinks. "What?"

"Boundaries, Mandy. We negotiate them now, or this doesn't happen."