Page 12 of Ask Me Something

“I’m trying very hard right now not to be turned on by your jealousy, Sasha.” He moved close again. “I want us both to be certain, though, before we go down a road from which we can’t return. If she hadn’t shown up tonight, how would the conversation have gone after Catherine left?”

It was time to put up or shut up. “I’m hoping I would’ve been brave enough to ask you if you ever think about more.”

His fingers stroked my cheek. “Every fucking day.”

My lips were so close to his mouth that I could feel his breath with that admission. “Are you going to kiss me?”

His eyes darkened. “I want to so badly it hurts.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” Suddenly I didn’t want to think about any repercussions.

“Things have changed since Miami. There are items we’d have to discuss before we could even consider sleeping together.”

“I get it. You’re my boss and—”

“There’s that, but we’d need to come to some sort of agreement on things.”

“Agreement, huh? What happened to just having sex?” I was both intrigued and amused with this serious side of him.

“Not that simple, gorgeous. Not with me. You’d have to agree to my rules, and we’d have to establish boundaries.”

What in the hell was he talking about? This was fun-loving Brian, not some guy who had rules and limitations about sex. “I don’t understand. Are you saying you’d turn me down tonight if I asked you to stay?”

“It might appear that way, but the last thing I want is a one-night stand with you. I need you to think about if you want to enter into a sexual relationship rather than simply react.”

“I still don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying that it would be very easy for you to fall into bed tonight and then tomorrow have regrets. You think I don’t know you well enough to understand all those doubts running through your mind with regard to your career and me being your boss, but I do. I know what your priorities are, Sasha, and I respect them, but I won’t let you take the easy way out and chalk this up to a lapse in judgement.”

It irritated me that he could read me so well, but it was also a relief. I wasn’t always the best at expressing my emotions, and having him do it for in this case wasn’t a bad thing. Unfortunately, my body wasn’t getting the sex-is-off-the-table memo. I’d been aroused since his leg touched mine in the restaurant. “What are the rules?” I was suddenly very curious.

“If you make the conscious decision to move forward, we start with the question of whether or not you’d allow me to be in control in the bedroom. We can go over details and negotiate the rules, but you’d have to agree to that fundamental principle first.”

“I think I may have hallucinated.” I moved toward the kitchen and poured a large glass of water, needing to sober up. Meeting his eyes, I watched while he leaned against my countertop awaiting my next sentence. “Let me get this straight. By you saying you’d be in control, are you telling me you’d want to be dominant?”

He nodded, and I noted there was no amusement in his eyes. He wasn’t joking.

“And by that admission, you’d want me to be submissive?” The very idea was laughable.

“Not the way you’re thinking of it, but in a sense, yes, I would be in charge. But make no mistake. I’d do this for your pleasure more than mine.”

His voice was doing funny things to me, so I gulped down more water. I couldn’t believe we were standing in my kitchen having this conversation. “Maybe I like to call the shots with the men I date.” Quite frankly, if they didn’t like it, then too bad, I almost added.

“Yeah, and how has that worked out for you?”

His smug look made me want to wipe it off. “I’m not into long-lasting relationships, therefore it’s worked out just fine,” I retorted.

He chuckled softly and moved, boxing me in against the countertop. With his forearms on either side of me, he leaned in. His voice was low and gravelly as he murmured against my ear, “I was talking about the sex, honey. How was the sex?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to discuss my sexual history, let alone admit it lacking. Meanwhile, his nearness was wreaking havoc on my senses.

He pulled back and danced his fingers down my arm. “Actually, I could tell you how it’s been for you.”

I shivered at his nearness and sexy voice. “Do tell,” I challenged on a whisper.

He smirked, knowing exactly the effect he was having on me. “It was fine. And the word fine is a throwaway word. It’s what you respond with to the doorman when he asks how your evening was: “Fine, thanks.” It’s what you say to the client when they ask how your flight was: “fine.” But it shouldn’t be the way you describe your sex life. Hell, maybe the first time was okay and promising. The second time, perhaps a little bit better, but by the fifth time, you realize that’s it. That was the main act with the encore. But it was fine, so you stick it out for a while. After all, it’s nice to have a reason to wear something new and lacy with someone to notice. Nice to get dinner with someone. But then you find yourself bored and staying late at work even when you don’t have to because, frankly, the alternative isn’t as appealing, and that’s not so fine.”

“Okay, enough.” I moved one of his arms and stepped out of reach to lean against the opposite counter. He’d touched a nerve, hitting too close to home on my sex life or at least the one that I could remember.

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