Page 19 of T is for…

Her breasts pressed against the fabric of her robe, the band of glossy black that crossed her sternum, hinting at some interesting lingerie.

Tara. His Tara.

Now about to be truly his.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “But say my name.”

She studied him for a moment before saying. “I want to play the game with you, Nathan.”

He shook his head. “Saying ‘play the game’ is evading, and you know it.”

Tara’s lashes lowered, just enough to hide her eyes.

“I want to scene with you, Nathan.”

A dark, feral satisfaction was sliding through him. He wanted her with a terrifying ferocity. As if all the years of refusing to allow himself to look at, or think of, her in a sexual way had caused turbulent water to back up behind a dam. And now they were opening the floodgates.

Dominate her. Give her what she needs. Use and touch her in the ways no one else could, because no one else knows her like you do.

“If we’re doing this, we don’t cut corners just because we know one another.”

“Agreed.”

“Meaning, we negotiate before we start.”

“It feels like we’ve already started,” she murmured.

She was right. The way he was restraining one arm, manipulating her body, and issuing orders, weren’t best friend behavior. It was Dom behavior.

He nodded and released her hand, sitting back on his heels.

Tara scooted until she was sitting at the other end of the small couch, her toes tucked into the space between the cushions. It was an unexpectedly vulnerable move, tucking her bare toes away. He had to stop himself from reaching out and wrapping a hand around her ankle, to connect them.

Tara had one arm tucked under her bent legs, holding the back of her robe against her thighs.

He swallowed the impulse to grab her knees and spread her legs. To force her to have this conversation with her pussy on display.

Would that make her feel submissive, or would it make her feel awkward?

He didn’t know, and he needed to, because Nathan was fairly certain it would break something inside him if she was indifferent to his dominance.

Nathan rose to sit on the couch, bracing his elbows on his knees and gripping his hands together, and looking down at his hands rather than at Tara.

“What kind of Dom do you think I am?”

“What?” She clearly hadn’t expected that question.

“What kind of Dom do you think I am?” he repeated. “You know me, so I’m sure you have some idea. And whatever version of me you’re imagining is a factor in to your agreeing to scene with me.”

“If I guess wrong, will you change your mind?”

He looked over. “Maybe.”

“I don’t like unanswerable questions.”

“And I won’t touch you without first knowing what you’re thinking.”

“Isn’t that what negotiating is for?” Tara countered, crossing her legs and leaning toward him.

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