Page 16 of Tell Me Something True

“I don’t want to give you my belt.”

He lowered his arm. “And why is that?”

“I have my reasons. Isn’t it enough that I don’t want to?”

He nodded once. “It’s enough.”

And then, he let the silence between them grow. Deepen to uncomfortable levels. Waiting for her to jump in and break it with another admission.

Cops. Always playing with your head.

She tightened the belt around her hands until her knuckles turned white. “I don’t like being restrained.”

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes went sharp at her quick, unsteady confession. “What else don’t you like?”

She blinked, trying to recall a time when what she liked, what she wanted, mattered to anyone else.

And came up blank.

“I don’t like the missionary position.”

He made a low, harsh sound, like he’d just had the breath knocked out of him. His expression stricken.

As if he was remembering all the many, many times they’d had sex with him on top of her.

She waited for him to ask if this aversion to being on her back beneath a man was new. Or one she’d had when they were together.

One she’d kept from him.

He’d told her he wouldn’t talk about the past. Had vowed he wouldn’t bring up the future and that she could stop whenever she wanted. He’d made it clear that while he may take control, she was the one really calling the shots here.

Time for him to prove it.

“I won’t restrain you,” he finally said.

She unwound the belt from her right hand, keeping it wrapped around her left. “I think I’ll hang onto it anyway.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Yes. How dare she, the liar in this little drama they were putting on, accuse him, the good and noble hero of the play, of being less than one hundred percent truthful?

“Oh, I believe you. What I’m saying is, those four little words aren’t enough for me.”

Something flashed in his dark eyes, something that looked suspiciously like respect.

That was a nice change of pace. And not something she could recall seeing from him before.

He stood, as if he wanted them to be on even ground for what happened next. That, too, was a show of respect. Him no longer a king on his throne, but a man willing to meet her halfway.

It didn’t matter that he held all the advantages—height, weight, muscle and them being in his home—a rush of power blew through her.

She was worthy of that respect and had every right to accept it.

To demand it.

“I’m not going to restrain you,” Miles said again. “I’m not going to do anything to make you feel trapped or unsafe. I don’t want to degrade you in any way. I don’t want to hurt you.” He paused, his voice dropping to a low thrum. “I want to dismantle you. I want to reveal you. Piece by piece. Bit by bit. And I want you to give those pieces to me. Freely. Willingly.”

Her breath caught, tight and hot in her chest.

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