Page 59 of Whatever Lola Wants

He grinned. “Then I get to enjoy my prize.”

Her lips wanted to twitch—he’d said the same after their wrestling match at her house. But the marvelous mix of excitement and anxiety brewing inside had all her attention now.

“You listed hard limits on your paperwork, but what are the ones that might apply here?”

She had to give her head a shake to clear it. Hard limits. Right. “No permanent marks, no hitting my face. No degradation, no breath play.” She frowned, trying to think. “This is why you’re supposed to negotiate before you’re turned on, dork.”

He burst out laughing, and she realized she’d spoken out loud. “Oops. Um. I meant me, Sir.”

He was still laughing. “Don’t worry. If I thought you were calling me a dork, I’d still be laughing. I’d just be paddling your ass while I did.”

There was that unexpected sense of humor again. “Noted, Sir.”

“Do you have any questions before we get started?”

She rolled her shoulders. “No, Sir.”

He watched the subtle flexing of muscles. “Getting loosened up already, hmmm? Oh, one more thing I forgot.” He reached into his toy bag and came up with a set of leather wrist cuffs. He buckled them securely around her wrists, then with a smirk, tugged her arms behind her back and deftly clipped them together.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. “What the hell?”

His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Having been on the receiving end of your…skills, I figured it would be smart to take your hands out of the equation.”

“Stacking the deck in your favor, Sir?” she accused.

“Absolutely.” He grinned. “But since your only task is to get away, you don’t need your hands.”

Lola swallowed the sharp retort. He knew damn well taking her hands away affected her balance, her mobility, and her ability to defend. The big jerk.

He twisted back to his bag and dug out a digital watch and strapped it to his wrist. “Since no cell phones are allowed in the club, I’ll use this as a stopwatch.”

He zipped the toy bag closed and nudged it against the wall before standing to toe off his boots. He eyed her as he stripped off his socks, leaving his feet bare. “Need a hand up, little girl?”

Little girl? She stifled the snort and pushed to her feet, engaging her core and her leg muscles to rise as smoothly as she would have with the use of her hands.

“You’re in good shape.” His grin could only be described as wolfish. “How’s your stamina?”

Better than yours, she wanted to say, but she wasn’t that foolish. “Excellent.”

“I bet it is.” He jerked his chin. “Go to the center of the room and kneel.”

She did as he asked, the cushion giving beneath her weight. As useful as the padding would be at preventing injury, it would also make it more difficult for her to move quickly, especially without the use of her hands. The part of her brain that thought like a top admired the way he’d set up the scene. The rest of her—the part that was about to get nibbled to death by tiny clothespins—was feeling less appreciative.

He backed up until he was standing with his back against the wall. “One more rule I need to mention before we start.”

Another ‘one more rule’? She schooled her features to polite indifference. “Sir?”

“If any of the clothespins I place get knocked off during your attempts to evade or escape, I get to put two in its place. Agreed?”

Oh, she was dead meat. He was waiting patiently for her acquiescence, so she nodded. “Good enough.” He raised his wrist and pressed a button on the side of the digital watch. “Begin.”

She pushed up off her knees immediately and leapt to the left when he rushed her. His fingertips brushed her skin as he went past, nearly curling around her elbow before she ducked down and darted forward.

He spun into a low crouch. “Nice moves.”

She didn’t have time to respond before he leapt at her again.

Fast and low, she noted and darted to the side, again barely evading his reaching hands. He liked fast and low. She barely suppressed a squeal when he leapt again, this time feinting, then launching himself in the direction of her dodge.

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