Page 52 of In Too Deep

Logan tilts his head, examining me closer. Then his grin turns wicked, and a shiver runs down my spine.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” he practically purrs.

I sigh, confusion and irritation taking over. “I’m too hungry to play word riddles, McQueen.”

Logan growls low in his chest, and I freeze, not sure how to interpret the sound. He’s still smiling, which is good, but his eyes are dark and predatory.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you want me to earn your submission. You aren’t going to hand out ‘yes, Daddys’ just because I ask. If I want you to act like a good girl, I’m gonna have to make you. Does that sound about right?”

My breath catches in my throat, eyes going wide. I don’t know how, but he’s pulled the words right out of my mind and laid them out between us. Mouth slightly agape, I nod.

“In the world of kink, a submissive like that would be called a brat. And their dominant is called a brat tamer,” Logan states.

Heat swirls in my chest, my chin lifting proudly. I like the idea of being someone who needs a tamer, like I’m a wild lioness who will only yield to the bravest and strongest keeper.

Logan opens his mouth to speak, but he’s interrupted by the klaxon alarm he’d set on his phone. I move to get up with him,but he holds out a hand, his palm facing me. The heat from moments ago is gone, the relaxed alpha returning. I stay on my guard as I watch him plate up portions of the fish and potatoes, trying to figure out what his angle is. Is this a test? Am I supposed to do something?

He catches my incredulous stare before I can hide, and he gives me a lopsided grin.

“I’m not going all Jekyll and Hyde on you, just trying to keep daytime and playtime separate until we get things hammered out,” he explains, not that it clears much up.

I don’t answer, and he gives me another easy smile. He comes back to the table with our plates, setting mine in front of me and his beside me, then goes back into the kitchen, returning with another beer, my glass from earlier, and the bottle I’d poured from. I reach for it, but he holds them outside my wingspan, pouring me a glass and placing it beside my plate before he finally sits down.

“Daytime, to me, is when we do this sort of thing. We share a meal, or a drink, or each other’s company, and there’s no hierarchy. You’re just Tori, the best social media manager I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with in the NHL, and I’m just Logan, a guy from Boston who knows a thing or three about hockey,” Logan says, leaning slightly toward me.

My stomach flutters, his scent swirling around me and sucking the moisture from my mouth. I swallow and wait, not sure what else to do when he’s looking at me like I hung the moon or something.

“And when it’s playtime, I’m your Daddy, and you are my bratty baby girl. You’ll have rules to follow and consequences for breaking them. Though, that’s half the fun, isn’t it?”

Logan’s voice drops nearly a full octave, and I have to suppress a moan that tries to fight its way free. I don’t have to think toohard about what sort of consequences he has in mind, which only makes my pussy throb that much harder.

Logan leans back and starts to eat, effortlessly extracting the tiny bones from the filet. I take a deep breath and do the same, glad to have something else to focus on besides how soaked my panties are. As I take my first bite of the fish, I smile, feeling it almost melt on my tongue, and then burst with flavor. The potatoes are just as delicious, and I make a conscious effort not to scarf the meal down like an animal.

“So, the first thing we should establish is a safe word. Something we can use if we want to end a scene early for whatever reason,” Logan says after a few minutes, taking a sip of his beer.

I nod, not unfamiliar with the concept thanks to my research. “Houston,” I supply, taking another bite of fish.

Logan chuckles. “Works for me. Either of us saysHouston, and whatever’s happening stops.” Logan nods to himself.

“What’s stopping me from using the word in the middle of one of your punishments?” I ask, speaking the thought as it occurs to me.

Logan meets my stare, his mouth set in a serious line. “Nothing. But I hope you’ll learn to trust that, while I might push your limits, I’m never going to ask you to do something I don’t think you’re capable of doing, Tori.”

I consider that for a moment, my mouth curving down into a thoughtful frown. Safe words, from what I’ve read, are like pulling an emergency eject handle in a fighter jet. They’re meant to get you out of a crashing plane safely, not a quick escape from momentary turbulence. And it’s not that I don’t trust Logan, but we’ve only been together once. Having an out is the right move, but probably one I shouldn’t abuse if I want to give us a fair chance.

I nod firmly, popping another piece of potato into my mouth and washing it down with wine. “You mentioned rules and consequences. What does that mean?”

Logan pauses before answering, and I feel his gaze on the side of my face like a sunbeam. “Rules are what they sound like. We negotiate what behaviors we’d like to have in our play, and then—”

“Negotiate? I thought you make them, and I just follow.”

Logan snorts a laugh under his breath. “So you’re telling me that if I made it a rule that you have to go commando under your skirts on game days, just so I could have free use of your pussy whenever I felt like it, you’d be okay with that?”

I reel back, my heart jumping for a whole new reason. “What? No! I’d never—”

“That’s why it’s a negotiation, Tori,” Logan says smoothly, cutting off my protest. “Ready to start?”

My mouth snaps closed hard enough for my teeth to clack together, my shoulders dropping from their bunched-up, defensive position around my ears. As I take a deep breath, my heart rate slows, and I realize Logan’s scent has shifted. It’s lost the edge of alcohol from earlier, now much heavier with cinnamon and cloves. I can almost feel the warmth of the hot apple cider sliding down my throat to pool in my belly, and I let out a relaxed sigh before nodding.

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