Page 51 of How to Blow It with a Billionaire

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”

He gave me a tense little nod. “I’m also very aware that you would like to further explore a lifestyle that I have done my best to put behind me. And while there is a part of me that would love nothing more than to take you back to that room, I cannot allow that to happen.”

“Because you have to protect me from kinky shit I can’t handle?”

“Because I have to protect myself from becoming someone I despise.”

It had been a lot easier accepting that it wasn’t my place to question his decisions when I wasn’t actually faced with them. Because I was desperate to understand what was so terrible about getting his dungeon on with a fully consenting partner, i.e., me. Instead, I went with, “Do you honestly think what we’re doing at the moment is vanilla?”

“Clearly it isn’t.” He paced again. “I know this might not seem rational to you. But the difference is the room, the implements, the toys, the tools…they take me back to a world that I never want to be part of again.”

Well. That was clear cut. And there was no point making a huge fuss about him talking to me if I wasn’t going to listen when he did.

“Okay,” I said. “I get it.”

He stilled. “Do you really, Arden? I’m telling you I might not be able to satisfy you in the ways you need.”

“I’ve been pretty damn satisfied so far.”

That won the smallest of smiles. But it didn’t last. “While all relationships involve compromises, there are some that should not be made. I do not wish to be a compromise for you as I have been for Nathaniel.”

This was one hell of a conversation to be having with my hair fluffed up and my nipples out. I hiked up the duvet. “Let me think a moment.”

He circled back to the bed and sat down.

My head felt like it was going to explode. And, worst of all, I couldn’t quite tell if we were having a breakup conversation or not. “Just to clarify: what we’re doing at the moment. Like what we did on the plane. And on your desk. Is that okay or not okay?”

“Very okay.”

“And we can keep doing it?”

He nodded.

Probably this was a situation when being super explicit was better than taking anything for granted. “So you’re up for spanking me? And hurting me? And making me cry and beg and crawl? And maybe tying me up with items of clothing you happen to have on hand?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, and yes. And yes.” He sounded very serious. But he’d also gone super pink.

“Oh, and saying I’m a slut and things?”

“Yes.”

“And incredibly dirty phone calls when you tell me exactly what to do?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m in. That’s not a compromise.”

Various emotions flashed across his face so quickly I couldn’t quite identify them. “But…the room and—”

“Well, the room is pretty cool. And if you were into it, I would be too. But, Caspian, I don’t need fancy furniture. I need…well…you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Your voice commanding me and your eyes watching me and your body controlling me.”

“And that’s really enough?”

“More than. Look, I’m not an expert or anything but, for me, submission is here”—I brushed a finger against my brow—“and here.” I tapped my heart. “You can bring me to my knees with a word or a smile or the simple will to have me there.”

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