Page 41 of The Fate Philosophy

I was fully prepared to stand my ground. To tell him to leave. And I knew he would. I knew that if I made it clear this would go no farther, he’d respect that. He’d go. I opened my mouth to say exactly that, when a purposeful breath blew across the shell of my ear.

Asshole.

He knew what he was doing. Knew what games he was playing.

But I could play too. I could tease too.

I turned around so that my back was to the door. His hand came off the handle and he brought both arms to hang on the doorframe above us. His head dropped between his shoulders and those blazing eyes landed on my face. He closed me in, taking up the entirety of the space around me. I arched my back so that my chest pressed against his. He almost shuddered at the contact.

“I like to be told what to do,” I whispered. “I like it when a man takes control.”

His tongue snaked out over his lips again. “And you haven’t found a man who can do that?”

I ran my pointer finger down his chest. “I’ve found that men tend to expect me to always be in control. They seem to think I’m the type of girl who wants to run the show. Call the shots.” I looked into his eyes. “Perform for them.”

“You’re a commanding person.”

I laid my palm flat against his chest and stood on my toes, bringing my lips to his ear. In the faintest tone, I said, “In the bedroom, I want to be commanded.”

I tugged on the handle and let it fall open behind me with every intention of stepping inside and shutting the door in Dom’s face. Of leaving him in the hall.

As if he knew what I was thinking, he wrapped an arm around my waist and stepped us both backward into the apartment, shutting the door behind him with his foot. The movement was so smooth, so graceful. I felt electricity shoot between my legs.

“What else do you like?” His eyes were pleading as he backed me into the kitchen island. They were begging for me to give him more. To tell him more. He braced his hands on either side of the counter behind me.

“Choked,” I murmured. “Spanked. I like my hair pulled.”

His head fell back, his eyes fluttering closed as he groaned.

Something beyond my own control had me grabbing the collar of his shirt, pulling on it until his head dipped down again. Until his mouth was just inches from my own. “I want to be tied up. Blind folded.” I met his eyes. “Played with.”

Both desperate and afraid of his response, I found my fingers tangling into the threads of his sweater, as if to pull him closer, and then loosening, pushing him away.

I made to step past him, but before my feet could move, he was grabbing my hips again, knocking me against the wall next to the front door. “I can play with you, Mace.”

It was my eyes fluttering closed now.

Yes. Yes, yes.A voice in my head screamed.

But I still shook it.

One of his hands found my face, gripping my chin and lifting it to meet his gaze. He studied me, and I knew what he was searching for. He was looking at the flush in my cheeks, the dilation of my pupils, the pulse in my throat. He was searching for the desire in my eyes that told him what I truly wanted, and I knew he was finding everything he was looking for.

His hand moved from my chin and to my cheek, cupping my face. “I told you, baby. I get you.” He leaned into me, so close that I could feel his lips move against mine as he said his next words. “I can give you exactly what you need.”

A moan escaped my throat.

“Tell me yes. Tell me you want to play. Tell me you want it.”

“I want you.”

He nearly growled as his mouth captured mine. Our lips met for the first time in a kiss that was as blazing and anguished as he made me feel. My body erupted in flames that began at the point where his mouth entwined with my own, and spread through every atom in my body. Fire set between my legs, burning hotter as he parted me with his tongue. I moaned as I sucked his full bottom lip beneath my teeth. He groaned as I bit down lightly before releasing and allowing him in deeper. It was desperate– the way we explored each other, begging to know every inch of one another. The way our mouths swapped sounds of pure need.

His hands explored my body in the same fashion his tongue did my mouth. Urgent and needful, but delicate and purposeful. His hand slipped behind my head, his fingers knotting in my hair as he tilted my head back and kissed me deeper.

His other hand left my hip and roamed upward beneath my sweater, savoring the bare skin he was exposing, until he reached the underside of my breast. He slipped beneath my bra.

“Is this okay?” he breathed into my mouth.

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