Page 3 of Over the Line

He captured her chin gently. “Find out for yourself. Let’s have an experiment here at the Den to see if we have chemistry. After that, we can head out to my ranch. It’s about forty-five minutes from here. Or if you’d prefer, we can go to your place. Wherever you feel most comfortable.”

Michael allowed his gaze to wander down her body, taking in her shapely, bare legs. Until now, he’d been a stockings man. “Are you wearing underwear?”

“I…”

With his index finger, he stroked her cheekbone. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

She hesitated for a moment, and he wondered if she was going to answer or whether she was going to run. He held her lightly enough that her movements weren’t restricted.

“Boy shorts,” she said.

“Please remove them for me.”

“Now?” She blinked. “Here?”

“Maybe you’re the one who should be afraid,” he said quietly, “rather than me. Gregorio says you often bail out of scenes. I wondered at first if it was because Doms asked too much from you. But I’m thinking they probably didn’t ask enough. I’ve known you less than five minutes, but I’ve figured out you’re assertive. You know what you want, but I’m guessing you’re not always good at asking for it. Furthermore”—he leaned in closer—“I’m willing to bet you’re bored with anyone who isn’t as aggressive as you are. Am I wrong about that?”

She shivered. Since the Colorado evening was mild and they were standing near the fire, she couldn’t be cold. Clearly, he’d hit a nerve.

Surprising him, she met his gaze. “You’re right about the fact I get bored easily.” She curled her hand around his wrist. “And you’re wrong if you think I’m afraid of anything.”

“Fair enough. In that case, I told you to take off your panties.” He released his grip on her chin, and she let go of him. He remained where he was, physically and figuratively refusing to give her space.

He offered his arm, and she held on to it while precariously balancing on her high heels.

Finally, she straightened and looked at him as she dangled the pretty pink material from her index finger. Too late he realized he’d made a mistake by not asking to see them on her first. The material had probably stretched across her derriere, highlighting her butt cheeks perfectly.

He accepted the proffered underwear and stuffed the silk and lace confection into his pocket. Who would have suspected that she wore something so tantalizing beneath black leather? “What are your limits?”

“I haven’t found any,” she said.

“Then you’ve been playing with the wrong Doms.”

She shrugged. “That’s possible. But maybe I’m tougher than you think.”

“Perhaps.” He met her answer with a great deal of skepticism. Jane, his ex-wife, had let him believe she wanted things raw, but the moment his wedding band had been placed on her finger, the figurative collar had come off her throat. “Humiliation?”

“I don’t have a lot of experience with that.”

“No one has made you stand in a corner with your nose pressed to the wall and your panties around your ankles when you misbehaved?”

She stiffened.

Have I hit another nerve?

Her lips parted for a moment, just long enough for him to wonder how she tasted. He loved anticipation, enjoyed getting a woman so turned on she lost her inhibitions, but now, with Sydney, unfamiliar impatience nipped at him.

With an impish grin, she returned his volley. “I don’t misbehave.”

“Of course you do. Enough to be called the Brat.”

“Oh.” As if bored, she yawned. “That.”

“Scares some people away, no doubt.”

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