Page 21 of Tell Me Something True

Her words were a whisper. Unsteady, but not uncertain.

“You want me to take control of what?”

“Of me.”

“More.”

Her body trembled with need or nerves, and he must be a real prick because he’d never seen anything so pretty.

Had never wanted anyone so badly.

But then she shook her head, the tiniest of movements, denying him.

If it had been her newfound strength asserting itself, he would have gone back to demanding. If it had been her newly acquired stubbornness, he would have butted up against it with his own more established tenacity.

But it was fear. And the same vulnerability that had drawn him to her all those years ago. The one thing she hadn’t changed about herself.

“You can do it,” he murmured, and at his coaxing tone, she flushed, pleasure darkening the pink of her cheeks and chest to a deep rose. “You can tell me the truth about what you want. What you need.”

She studied him, gaze seeking, as if trying to figure out if this was some sort of trick.

It wasn’t.

It was a way to learn more about her. To discover what made this new version of her tick.

And to use those lessons to his advantage.

“I want you to take control of me,” she finally said, her gaze never straying from his. “I want you to take control of what happens between us tonight. And I want…” She trailed off. Rubbed her lips together then said, quick and soft, “I want you to take what you need from me.”

His cock, hard and aching since she’d taken off her belt, twitched behind his zipper. He took a deep breath, then another. Squeezed both hands into fists, curling his fingers around the soft material of her belt and the silkiness of her thong so he wouldn’t grab her and yank her onto his lap.

“Is that really what you want?” He needed to know for certain. No doubts. No hesitation. Full consent. “For me to use you in that way? Because that’s what it’s going to be. Me using your body to fulfill my needs. Me taking from you everything I want until you have nothing left to give.”

Eyes wide, lips parted as she breathed quick and shallow, she nodded.

“I need the words, Tabitha.”

A pause, the hesitation lasting a heartbeat. Then two. “It’s really what I want.”

He believed her. But there was one more thing he needed to know.

“Why?”

She blinked. And dropped her gaze. “Does it matter?”

It shouldn’t. He shouldn’t give a damn about her reasons for any of it. For being in Mount Laurel. For coming home with him.

It shouldn’t matter if it was remnants of what they’d had together years ago, or if she was just lonely. It shouldn’t matter if she was using him just as much as he was using her.

But it did.

“Yeah. It matters.”

It mattered if she was here as part of some fucked up guilt trip.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he ground out when she remained quiet. Eyes downcast. “You can’t make up for the past. Not this way.”

“It’s because I like it,” she whispered to the floor.

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