Page 47 of The Daredevil

“Okay. I’ve never had a safe word,” she whispered, her cheeks pinker than before. “I’ve neverneededit. People only use that kind of word when they’re into the BDSM stuff, right?”

I laughed at where her mind went, but it was a natural thought process. There were many things I could tell her. Though the lighter version of BDSM could be fun, my angel needed a different tender loving care. BDSM wasn’t her style. Those brown eyes sought a different excitement, something daring yet not as dark.

“Are you into that kind of erotic roleplaying?”

“Umm . . . no . . . not really . . .”

“Not really” just made my dick throb. I understood her more than she knew. Not BDSM, but something else.

She had no idea what she just did to me. Now I wanted to know. Mymissionwas to find out what was behind “not really.” I’d proven I had lost my mind, and I didn’t give a damn.

Scooping up water into my hands, I whipped it at her face. She squealed, laughed, and sloshed water back at me. The echo of her laugh went on and on, enlivening the place.

She submerged under the water and came up. “What’s your safe word?”

I’d never needed a safe word, but to give her peace of mind, I said, “Mine is a phrase: ‘Dammit, I’m mad.’”

“What?” She looked at me as though I were an alien. “Are you serious?”

“Did you know that ‘Dammit, I’m mad’ is spelled the same way backward? It’s a cool palindrome.”

She twisted her lips as she thought. “You’re right! I never knew that.”

“You can have a safe phrase if it’s easier for you.”

“I was expecting something else from you.”

“Like what?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. ‘Emergency’ or ‘crisis,’ or some other word that wouldalleviatethe situation.”

“My phrase will pause everything andalleviatethe situation. Besides, I won’t need it.” I tapped her adorable nose. “People go into these kinds of relationship already knowing what to expect. They have safe words or phrases for when they can’t handle something. A safe word is used to help bring on a contrast to the situation.”

“And you know this because . . .”

“I’ve partaken in a few relationships that required such words.”

But none of those relationships intrigued me the way you do.

“Oh.” She pursed her lips, thinking.

I’d give anything to peek into her mind.

“Well then, my word is ‘tomato.’”

“You feel safe with a tomato?” I tugged at her hair playfully.

She smirked. “Not so much ‘safe’ as it reminds me of something I’ve overcome. Don’t give me that look. You’re the one with the weird ‘dammit, I’m mad’ phrase. There’s nothing wrong with my simple vegetable.”

I held up a finger. “Technically,scientifically, a tomato is a fruit.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Doesn’t matter. It’smysafe word.”

Now I had to know why. The more our conversation continued, the longer my list of curious things grew. Not a good idea.

Michelle turned, saw Fiona and her crew heading toward us, and wrapped her arms around my neck.

Loving how she clung to me with that determined look, I slipped my arm around her waist, pressing her closer. Our fake relationship served two purposes. One, I could live out my fantasy of being with Michelle and satisfy my cravings so when things ended, we’d both move on with our lives with no strings attached. Our friendship could return to what it was. The second purpose was to keep Fiona away from me.

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