Temptation’s Edge (8 page)

Oh, that was a lie. She simply didn’t
want
to want to.

He stepped closer, not quite inside the door. But close enough that when she inhaled she caught a little of his dark scent.

“Obviously things didn’t end as well as I assumed they did. I thought we had a pretty splendid evening together.” He lowered his tone. “I thought you enjoyed yourself as much as I did—all three orgasms…or was it four?”

“Five,” she muttered.

“Well, then.” He paused, reached out and stroked her cheek with one big fingertip, let it rest just under her chin. “I’d thought to do it again; spend an evening together. I’d thought you might be amenable. But I can see now how five orgasms might sour your mind on me.”

He grinned at her, gave a wink, a gesture that would have been far too camp on almost any other man. On him, it was charming.

Damn it.

She sighed. “Look, Connor, I just don’t need any…complications, you know?”

That was certainly true enough. She had a lot to accomplish while she was in town. Not only was Dylan’s wedding important, but opening a new shop with Greyson could be an enormous step in securing her future. She needed to maintain her focus if she was going to make it happen.

“I would never think to complicate your life, Mischa. You and I, we’re the uncomplicated types, aren’t we? Birds of a feather.”

It was true—on the surface, anyway. Underneath, she knew she had some heavy stuff to work out. Maybe he did, too. But as far as sex went…why not? Maybe it could be that simple.

“Invite me in, Mischa.”

She blinked up at him, her head already spinning with the thought.

“Do it,” he said softly, but there was as much command in his low tone as there ever was with him.

She stepped back, held the door wide, and he moved in, closing it behind him.

He took her in his arms, leaned in to kiss her, and they had a few breathless moments in which his tongue surged into her mouth, hot and sweet, his lips soft on hers, yet demanding at the same time. Then he pulled back, held her at arm’s length.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said. “We’ll talk first this time.”

“Me?”

He laughed. “All right, maybe it was my fault. But kissing you is too damn good. But yeah, we have to talk a few things through.”

“Okay. Let me go change.”

“I don’t mind the towel.”

She smiled at him. “I’m sure you don’t, but you can’t ask me to sit next to you and think straight enough to have these negotiations after the way you just kissed me when I’m half naked.”

“Mmm, point taken.” He grinned at her, then settled on the sofa as easily as if he owned it. But then, that was how Connor did everything.

She hurried back to the bedroom, found her red satin kimono robe and slipped into it. She took a few moments in the bathroom to take her hair down and brush it into place in front of the big pewter-framed mirror. She tried to ignore the gleam in her blue eyes, the pink blush on her cheeks.

She’d have to accept that this was what he did to her. With one kiss. Hell, just by being there. She could pretend to be annoyed
with him, but what she was really annoyed with was her lack of control over her own response to him.

She had been, anyway.

Seeing him again made it all come back to her—the way he made her feel. Which was too damn good not to have another taste of it.

She was strong enough, independent enough, to simply let it go when her trip was over, or when one of them decided it was time to part ways. She always had been before. There was no reason for her to think she wouldn’t be now.

She could have sex with Connor Galloway again. And oh, how she was melting already, knowing it was about to happen. She could explore his brand of kink. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that. It didn’t have to make her head spin. And even if it did, she would handle it. Just as she’d told Dylan, she always did.

There was another small lie in there somewhere. But she was too distracted by the knowledge that he was in the next room, waiting for her, to pay it any attention.

“You are in big trouble, girl,” she told her reflection in the mirror. But that reflection only smiled back at her with a lustful gleam in her eyes.

“Come sit by me,” he said.

She did, next to him but not too close. If they had serious issues to discuss, she’d have to maintain a certain distance in order to keep a clear head. Semi-clear, anyway. The man was still in the room. And she suspected up close he’d smell too good to resist.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked him. “A glass of wine?”

“No alcohol when we play. No alcohol when we negotiate. Clear heads.”

“Okay. How do these negotiations go?”

“I have a list of questions. You answer. Simple in essence, except that you need to think your answers through, be honest with yourself about what you want, where your boundaries and fears are. And it’s just as crucial that you’re honest with me. This will determine what we might do, and perhaps more important, what we won’t do. You’ll be telling me yes, no or maybe for each question.
‘Maybe’ means it’s something I can push you on in the moment, or bring up again later, if I determine you’re in the right space to approach it.”

“If
you
determine?” She crossed her arms over her chest. That didn’t sit well with her at all.

Connor leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees. “Mischa, being a dominant is a great pleasure, but with it comes great responsibility. I know we’ve just met, but can you trust in what you’ve seen of me so far? Can you trust that I am Alec’s friend? We play in the same circles, by the same code of ethics. Are you familiar with the Safe, Sane and Consensual credo?”

“Yes. I’ve heard it at the clubs I’ve been to. And I’ve read about it.”

“Then you have some idea of what that code means to me. I take it very seriously. All right?”

She nodded. Her heart was beginning to pound. This was serious stuff. The few men she’d “played” with at the clubs had been just that—play—but Connor was the real thing. It aroused her, excited her, so much more than she’d expected. But with Connor every time she thought she knew what to expect, he surprised her. Including, right now, how quickly her irritation at his bossiness dissolved under the powerful force of his natural command. It was real—he wasn’t some wannabe, which, she now realized, was probably what those other men she’d experimented with were. And somehow, that changed everything.

“I should also tell you,” he went on, “that when we’re done, if you still have any questions for me, you let me know, and I will answer as thoroughly as I can.”

She nodded again. Licked her lips.

“Remember: yes, no or maybe. Do you want to be spanked?”

She smiled, a little surprised at how quickly the conversation
had shifted, how he’d gotten right down to business. But this question was easy enough. “Yes. Sure.”

“Pinched?”

Also easy. “Yes.”

“Hit with a flogger, a slapper, a crop?”

A lovely chill ran through her. “Yes. I’ve had a flogger used on me, but it was one of those soft suede ones. And frankly, he was far too tentative with it.”

“What about with a single-tail?”

“Is that like a short bullwhip?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know the level of pain I can handle, what I might enjoy past a certain point.”

“But you do enjoy the pain?”

“Yes. I always have. From rough sex to a good spanking.”

“But you have never felt that you were a submissive.” It was phrased as a statement, but she knew he was asking her.

“Not in the past. But…it’s different with you. Not that I’ll ever be truly submissive. The submission is part of the pain-pleasure thing. An offshoot of that.”

“And you’re not entirely happy about it?”

She smiled again, a little wryly. “Not entirely.”

“But you are willing to explore these things with me?”

“Yes.”

“What about anal sex?”

“Yes. I like it a lot.”

A slow smile from him at that. “Ah, good girl.”

There it was, those two simple words again that just made her melt into a pathetic little puddle.

Only for him.

She’d been telling him the truth. Although she’d been spanked,
tied up, she’d never felt that sensation of going under, of letting go of control, handing that to another person. It had been more about seeking out extreme forms of sex. Having an adventure. The adventure with him would be something else altogether.

“How do you feel about being tied up? Handcuffed? Chained?”

“Being tied up has never really done much for me. I don’t get the fascination with ropes, and definitely not with silk scarves. That seems…amateurish to me. I love the handcuffs. Really love the idea of chains, although I’ve never used them before.”

“Ah, we are a perfect match, you and I. What about being blindfolded?”

“I…I don’t like it. Enough that I’ve never allowed anyone to try it with me. I don’t like that total disconnect from my environment.”

“You always need a shred of control to hang on to, is that it?”

She raised her chin. “Yes.”

“All right. We don’t have to go there right now. What about hot wax?”

“I’ve played with it before, but I wasn’t the one on the bottom that time.”

He laughed. “And?”

“I like the idea of it. We’ll have to see if I like the sensation.”

“Tell me about the kanji tattoo on the back of your neck—what does it say?”

“My tattoo?”

“Yes.”

She shrugged, trying not to squirm, although she wasn’t sure why
now
, rather than during all the questions about the floggers and chains. “It says ‘pain is love.’”

He raised one dark brow. “Do you really believe that?”

There was no hesitation before she answered this time. Loving anyone always meant that a certain amount of pain was inevitable.
That’s what her life had taught her. What witnessing her mother’s life had taught her. Love equaled loss. Life with her mother had been one loss after another. Her father…there was nothing but a sense of loss there, other than the constant yearning to be loved by a man who didn’t care that she existed. That’s what her tattoo was about. “Yes. Don’t you?”

He smiled a little, although at the same time he no longer looked quite so happy. “Yes. I guess I do.”

He paused, still looking at her. She stared back, watching as he rearranged his features, let the shadow there, a flicker of emotion, fade away. She wasn’t going to ask him about that. She knew the feeling well enough herself.

“Do you have any questions for me?” he asked her finally.

“Are the negotiations done?”

“For now.”

“Then yes, I have a question.”

“Ask.”

“When are you going to take me to that club, the Pleasure Dome?”

He laughed again. “You like the public play, do you?”

“That’s the biggest draw of those places for me, or it has been in the past. More than the equipment, my partners.”

“You like to put on a show, do you? So do I. If you really want to go, then I’ll certainly take you. Not tonight. Maybe next weekend. If you’re still interested, that is. You might run from me again.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What makes you so certain of that?”

“I just…” How could she explain to him, without saying more than she wanted to? Without admitting more than she was willing to look at herself? “I want to go. And I have a feeling this is going to work out. That we’ll be good together.”

“You’re not a shy one, are you?”

It was her turn to laugh. “Hardly.”

He stood, towering over her. He looked a bit intimidating, she could admit to that. The man was a
wall
. Big and dark, his eyes glittering with mischief. But she also loved it—his size, that shadowed side of him. His wickedness.

He held out a hand to her. “Shall we begin, then?”

She smiled, got to her feet. And was swept into his arms so fast it made her head spin. He turned her until she was facedown on the sofa, her robe gone as if by magic. He held both her wrists behind her back in one of his hands. She was panting instantly, shocked at how quickly he’d gotten her naked and into this submissive position. She also understood, in some distant way, that he’d used that element of surprise to break right through any walls she may have put up. It didn’t scare her. Little did. She trusted him, for all the reasons he’d stated. And it was working beautifully. There was nothing but that small voice in the back of her head that was trying to tell her to slow down, to regain some balance in the power between them. But she was turned on enough to overcome it.

He leaned over and whispered into her ear, as if he could see right into her head, “Just relax now. Give it all over to me. You don’t need to struggle. To argue with yourself about it. Just do it. It can be that easy.”

“It’s not easy,” she gasped, realizing only then that part of her
was
holding back, hanging on to some small sense of control. God, this really was a mind fuck.

“It’s as easy as you make it, Mischa.”

She tried to shake her head, but he pressed down on the back of her neck with one hand. Gently, but it was enough to press her cheek right into the cushions of the sofa. And he was still using the other hand to hold both of her wrists at the small of
her back. She began to tremble all over. It was half nerves, half desire, which was shivering through her in a series of tiny sparks, like small electric shocks. How had he known she would respond like this when she hadn’t known herself?