Page 23 of T is for…

“I’ve agreed twice now,” she said, “but if you’re not interested…”

“Oh, I’m very interested.”

That shouldn’t make her feel giddy with delight, but it did.

“We need to talk about how you usually submit,” he said. “We talked about how I top.”

“Could we…not?” Tara shifted, hugging her knees.

Nathan nodded. “That’s right, you want me to guess what kind of sub you are.”

Tara shook her head. “I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Because if you’re wrong, I’m not sure how that would make me feel.” She was fairly certain that she’d curl up into a humiliated ball if Nathan’s guess was wrong. She wasn’t entirely certain, so her statement wasn’t a lie, but it was a prevarication to protect herself.

“Then tell me about your last scene.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want what I’ve done in the past to influence what you will do.”

Nathan turned to face her, one leg on the couch cushion. He studied her for a long minute. “Did someone hurt you?”

Was he…angry? Protective?

To use his preferred curse: shit. The idea of Nathan being protective of her made her heart beat harder, and her pussy wetter.

Outside the club, men could fuck right off with that sort of thinking and behavior. Inside the club, where she let herself revel in the masculine-dominant female-submissive archetypes, that behavior was like catnip.

“No one hurt me.” The words came out soft. “Not the way you’re thinking.”

His gaze tracked over her. “Then they didn’t give you what you need.”

“I’ve been satisfied with my partners.”

“Not satisfied enough, if you don’t want a repeat.”

“I would have been happy to scene with you the way I normally do when I’m here.”

“Would have?” His frown melted into a slow smile. “You mean before me.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Is it the dirty talk? No one has whispered filthy things in your ear, and now that you’ve gotten a taste, you want more?”

His smile became a grin, and in that moment, he was the boy she’d first met. A boy who was a mix of serious intelligence and young-man cocky.

Tara rolled her eyes to look at the ceiling, fighting her own smile.

“Being serious for a moment,” he said. “I do need to know what you want.”

I want you.

Whoa. Her brain needed reins so she could pull back on some of these thoughts.

“I want to not make decisions,” she said instead. “I want to give up control, and with you, I want that to include not pre-negotiating everything we do.”

“Skipping negotiations…” Now he wasn’t just looking at her, he was studying her.

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