Page 19 of Volatile

She shrugged. “The cooking type.” She sat down on the couch and pulled the table over, making herself at home. “God, this looks fantastic. Thank you. I didn’t get a chance to eat all day.”

“You’re welcome. What can I get you to drink?”

“Just water, please.”

Jon went to the kitchen and poured her a glass. He’d make sure she had a full stomach before attempting a conversation. He came back and handed it to her, then sat down on the corner chair to watch her stuff pieces into her mouth with gusto. His lips curved upward. Definitely not a dainty eater. He didn’t know why that pleased him, but it did.

“Aren’t you eating anything?” she asked, mouth muffled. “Mmm... this is delicious.”

“I did right before you came. And I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

She nodded, taking another large bite. Enjoying might not be the correct word, more like inhaling. He chuckled softly. Her dog comment wasn’t too far off the mark.

“What’s so funny?”

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were starving.”

She took a sip of water. “I’m not one of those women who will nibble on a lettuce leaf while drooling over a steak just because there’s a man around. If I want the steak, I’m going to eat the damn steak, the entire thing. No matter who’s around.”

He laughed. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

Ivy set the plate aside and wiped her mouth, sitting back with her water and looking content. No time like the present.

“What do you know about BDSM?”

“What?” She sputtered a bit, then set the glass by the plate.

“It stands for—”

“I know what it stands for,” she spat out. “Do you think I’ve been living under a rock?”

Jon squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Would you like to try that again?”

She crossed her arms, and he took a nice, deep breath. She was a fucking time bomb, and he wondered what would set her off next. A strong breeze could come along and blow her up. He’d do his best to keep his patience, but he’d only tolerate so much disrespect.

“I know what it means,” she said, her voice calmer. “But what I want to know is why are you asking me?”

“Because I need you to work with me here, Ivy. Let’s keep this civil, okay? How about we start off with you telling me your definition of BDSM, because I’m betting that most of what you think is probably inaccurate.”

She looked him dead on. “My definition? An excuse for men to treat women like crap.”

“I’m not sure what you’re basing your information on, but—”

“Wait!” She flew forward. “Just wait a frigging second. Does this have something to do with Lily?” He opened his mouth, but surprise, surprise. He didn’t get a damn word in. “Is this your roundabout way of telling me she’s mixed up in this fucked-up shit?”

Both her look and her tone were accusatory as if he were responsible for Lily’s nature. He chose his words carefully. “Lily’s expressing an interest in pursuing a consensual, voluntary lifestyle where—”

“Where she gets her ass kicked and is forced into devious sex acts? Oh hell no.”

Her lips pressed together so tightly, he thought they’d disappeared into her face. Her foot tapped furiously against the floor. Jon moved closer, sitting on the opposite end of the same couch.

“Ivy, just hear me out, okay? We’re talking about something consensual here. It’s not abusive, it’s not degrading, and it’s not all about sex. It’s an expression of—”

“Weakness. It’s about weakness. Lying down and taking it.” She gave him a fake smile, folding her hands underneath her chin. “Thank you, sir, may I have another?” she said sweetly.

“That’s not what—”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

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