This is who I am

Chapter Sixteen

Linda parked her car in the small parking area at the side of Sam’s house and got out, disappointed his truck wasn’t there.

After greeting her with a quick lick of her fingers, Connagher returned to his front porch perch. Sam had said the dog “supervised” from there.

The construction crew was still working on the stable. Leaving her purse in the car, Linda wandered over to watch. They were amazing—like a choreographed musical with the dancers wearing jeans and T-shirts. Piece by piece, she could see the building coming together.

“You must be Linda.” A rough voice came from behind her.

She spun. A huge, dark-faced, scarred man loomed far too close, and she stumbled back. Run! Even as she recognized him as one of the construction crew, the icy fear refused to abate, forcing her to retreat another step. She couldn’t think—

“I’m Nolan. Saw you at the club.” He stood with Sam’s quiet patience. His face even held the same “panic if you need to, I’ll wait” expression.

The club? Of course. The subs at the Shadowlands had pointed him out. Her heart slowed to a mild gallop as she realized this was the Dom she’d said would step over a person’s body without looking back. Up close, he was even more intimidating. “I’m sorry. You startled me and I—”Was afraid you were a slaver. Um, not a polite thing to say.

“I’m not one of the bad guys, although my wife might disagree at times.” His grin came and went so fast she wasn’t sure she’d seen it. “Beth said she was going to have lunch with you today.”

Just shoot me now. Beth had even said her husband was the contractor here. Linda smiled and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He shook her hand gently. Like Sam, he seemed very aware of his strength.

And like Sam, he didn’t feel obligated to hold up his side of a conversation. At a loss, she said, “So you belong to Beth?”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “I see it as the other way around.”

Linda felt herself turn red. The guy was a Dom. Duh, Linda.

To her relief, Sam pulled his truck in beside her car and got out.

Her heart lifted higher as each of his long strides brought him closer.

“I didn’t expect you this soon,” he said. She had a moment of worry that he wasn’t happy to see her before he yanked her onto her toes for a kiss. Hard hands, demanding lips.

Her body slid into meltdown.

After tucking her against his side, he gave his dog a quick pat and greeted Nolan. “How’s it going?”

Nolan’s gaze touched her. He looked as if he was almost smiling before he answered Sam, “Ahead of schedule.” He checked his watch and turned to yell at his crew, “Day’s over. Finish up.”

The cheers made the horses in the pasture trot to the far end.

Nolan turned back to tell Sam. “Left your paint in the old barn.” After nodding to Linda, he rejoined his gang.

She shook her head. A woman who’d been abused married to that scary-looking man. Beth was braver than she looked.

Sam curved his hand over her hip. “I’d like a beer, a meal, and sex…not in that order.”

When his grip increased to the point of pain, she gasped, feeling everything shiver and loosen inside. “Well, I—”

His eyes crinkled. “Yeah, we could go straight to sex.”

Her heart acquired the same rat-tat rhythm as the nail gun. “I suppose.”

“Suppose?” He yanked her head back, holding her easily so she stared up into his light eyes. “Try again, missy. You might start begging now.”

Beg? Never. Ever. A nasty buzz like a million bees stung the insides of her head. “Slut, you want food? Beg for it.” As coldness shot through her, she struggled against his grip.

Sam released her hair instantly. His other hand lay lightly on her shoulder. Not gripping. Palm open. Warm. “Linda. Settle.” His level, patient eyes caught hers.

As the buzzing in her head decreased and died away, she shuddered.

“Well.” He put one finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “Bad reaction. What set you off?”

The lack of emotion in his voice helped dispel the last of her fear and fury and even smoothed away some of her embarrassment at overreacting. “I…don’t like the word. Beg.”

His eyebrows, a shade darker than his steel-gray hair, lifted in inquiry. “Why?”

“The Overseer”—the slaver Kim called a scum sucker—“made us beg for everything. To eat. To use the bathroom. To stand up. Sit down. For light.”

Sam growled. “And if you didn’t beg, he’d hurt you. If you did, it would never be enough.”

He knew. Understood. She closed her eyes and nodded.

He gathered her into his arms, rocked her back and forth. “Rough time, girl.”

She melted into him. He didn’t have a smooth tongue, but the comfort he offered was unsurpassed anywhere. His left palm kept her firmly against him; his other hand massaged the muscles on each side of her spine, loosening the knots.

“That’s not a good trigger word to have, though.” He pulled back and cupped her cheek. “I’ll work on getting you past that.”

“I…” Lovely. “Do all Doms try to fix things?”

The lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes deepened. “Yep.”

With a huff of exasperation, she walked with him to the house. In pickups and cars, the construction workers were streaming down the drive. The one at the end gave a honk-honk, and then quiet settled over the farm.

Conn stopped them for a minute to gather pets, then loped toward the pasture.

Linda glanced at Sam. “What’s he up to?”

“He was on guard while the construction crew was here. Now he’ll make sure no varmints invaded since his morning patrol.”

Linda laughed when the dog turned to look at them, as if to say the house was in their care now.

“So what did you do today?” Linda asked as Sam led the way into the kitchen. She nodded when he pulled out a bottle of wine.

He poured her a glass. “Financial chores—bank, accountant. Had a chat with a couple of people, looked at some new equipment, ordered more grain.” He grabbed a beer for himself and drew her out to the front porch to join him on the swing.

“Busy man.” He had so many balls in the air, it was a wonder he could keep track. And she’d thought running a store was tricky…and thinking of that made her remember basketry. “Oops. I left a basket I wanted to finish out in the car. And my purse.”

He walked to her car with her and carried in the oversize tote of basketry supplies.

After setting her purse near the door, she pulled her cell out. The display showed texts and voice mails from Brenna and Charles. She sucked in a startled breath. So many messages. Had something happened? Why’d she been so stupid as to leave her phone in the car?

“Got a problem?”

She glanced at Sam. “My children called. Lots of calls.” Her hand shook as she hit Brenna’s speed-dial number.

“Mom. Mommy. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” Her daughter was crying, almost incoherent. “We didn’t mean it. We shouldn’t—”

“Mom, I’m sorry.” Charles had apparently grabbed Brenna’s phone, and he didn’t sound any better.

“What?” What had they done? Burned her house down? “Charles, whatever you did, I forgive you, but what did you do?”

“Jesus, the way we talked to you. What we said. We didn’t realize.” Her big, strong son sounded as if he was in tears.

She looked at Sam, terror rising inside her. “They’re almost hysterical. What—”

Sam plucked the phone from her limp fingers and said into it, “A man makes his apologies in person. Got a piece of paper?” He paused, then gave his address. “A half hour? Good.” He tossed the phone into her open purse before giving her a nod. “They’ll come here. I need a shower.”

Mouth open, she stared after him. Her children had tried to apologize for the way they’d talked to her. Had been crying. And Sam hadn’t been surprised; his dark gray eyebrows hadn’t even lifted. As she sank into a chair, she heard the shower come on. Sam had given orders to Charles, and her obstinate son had taken them.

After a moment of weighing the facts, suspicion wove into knowledge. Sam had expected them to call. Could they have called him earlier? No, they didn’t know his last name.

But Master Sam Davies certainly wouldn’t have had any trouble finding her children. What had he done?

SAM LET THE hot water massage the tightness out of his shoulders and counted minutes in his head.

He’d made it to three minutes when the shower door was flung open.

Mama Bear had left the cave. He tried to avert his face before she noticed his amusement, but didn’t succeed.

Hands on hips, Linda glared at him. “What did you do to my children?” Even as furious as she was, her voice was still controlled. No shrieking, no hysterics. She was one fine woman. Then she slapped his shoulder. “You tell me. Now!”

He gave her a quick scan. She’d dressed for the farm in a V-neck T-shirt and jeans and left her shoes in the entry as he liked. Good enough. “As the sadist in this relationship, I do the slapping.” He grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked her into the shower.

She was soaked in seconds. Nice scream. Set all the hair on his body tingling.

“You aren’t allowed to hit me.” He ripped her T-shirt at the neck and drew it downward, pinning her arms against her sides.

“You-you-you bastard!”

“If you figure to sit and stew until they show, think again.” As she struggled, he unzipped her jeans and shoved them and her underwear down to hobble her ankles.

“Dammit, let me go.”

“Nope.” He dug his fingers into the last remaining welts on her ass, pulling her against him. With an unbreakable grip on her nape, he held her for his kiss, taking and taking until she went limp against him. Until she kissed him back.

Goddamn, the woman could kiss. As he hardened, he rubbed his dick against her and felt her resistance melt. My woman. Reluctantly, he released her lips and lifted his head. “Cooperate and we finish fast. Otherwise your children will have to wait on the porch while you’re busy in here.”

Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” Her pants pinned her legs together, and he had to work to push his hand between her thighs. But there he found her wet and ready. She trembled when he stroked over her pussy. She heated up fast. For him. The knowledge was a bone-deep satisfaction.

He circled her clit, pushed inside her entrance, then circled again. Fast, Davies. Remember? He wanted to linger and play until she screamed his name in frustration, but with a resigned sigh, he pulled her T-shirt up and off, then her bra. Hand between her shoulder blades, he bent her over, then positioned her hands on the corner shower seat. “Keep them there.”

“Sam. My children will—”

When he slapped her ass in reprimand—and to please himself—the sound echoed beautifully in the big tile shower. How many years had it been since he’d fucked a woman in a bathroom?

As the water beat on her ass, her bent-over position showed a hint of her glistening pussy, more of her anus. Nice. Even nicer, she stayed in place, and her face showed only arousal.

He rubbed the sting from her ass, pulled her labia open, and pushed his cock in an inch. Not roughly—she was still too emotionally fragile for that—but firmly. Had to be careful, but her wetness and low moan of pleasure said he was on the right path.

She was hotter than the shower, wetter, and tight enough to make him struggle for control. He pulled out halfway. When he thrust in all the way, the zing went straight to his balls.

Her ass tilted up slightly; she wanted more. Goddamn, she was cute.

He bent over her back. As his dick pressed deeper, she squirmed, taking him to the hilt. Burying his face in her lavender-citrus-scented hair, he reached around and cupped her breasts. Soft as anything he’d found in his life. He kneaded them and pinched her nipples hard enough to have her whimpering and trying to pull away. But his chest pressed down on her, his dick impaled her; she wasn’t going anywhere. Fucking nice. Her hot, slick cunt tightened each time he tugged on her breasts.

As the pain fed her arousal, her hips started to wiggle. He yanked her hair, pulling her head up as he drove into her. “Give me more.”

Her moan was like food for a starving man.

She certainly wasn’t thinking about anything but him. And he was going to push her hard enough that when her children arrived, she’d be glowing. So any guilt they tried to lay on her would slide off.

He coated his fingers with cream rinse and with the next thrust of his cock, he breached her asshole with a finger.

She gave a strangled gasp and attempted to straighten.

He leaned forward and gripped her shoulder, holding her down. “Stay put, missy.” But he paused to check her response. Combining rough sex and anal sex might trigger some bad memories. “We at green?”

As a fine trembling shook her body, her head bowed. Her whisper was barely loud enough to be heard over the water. “Green.”

He smiled. Not only did taking it in the ass wake up every nerve down there, but it was also the pinnacle of surrender. Linda was giving him her submission.

So beautiful and loving and responsive—she warmed his heart. He ran his hand over her back. “Good girl. Now stay there.” Spreading his legs for balance, he thrust his cock in deep, pulled back, and slid his finger into her ass. Alternating each until he could almost feel the humming in her body. He added another finger in her asshole, heard her breathing catch. “Someday, you’ll take my cock there.”

When a tremor shook her body, he grinned.

But time to head for the finish line. “Don’t move.” As she braced her arms on the corner seat, he reached around her with his free hand and fingered her clit, then hammered into her pussy and thrust his fingers into her ass. Deliberately overloading her senses, he drove her hard, not easing up at all.

He could feel her legs shaking. Then her cunt tightened around his cock, her ass around his fingers. Her clit was fully unhooded, begging for more. Almost there.

Her neck arched, her body froze, and she came with a high wail that echoed off the tiles and made him grin.

As her pussy squeezed around his cock, he released his control and let her cunt suck him dry. With a low groan, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her up.

Although he could have stayed right there, buried deep, he felt her knees threatening to buckle. With a sigh of regret, he pulled out. After putting her on the seat, he washed up.

He grasped her jeans, still around her ankles. “Lift your legs.”

She lifted one pretty leg, then the other. As he pulled her to her feet, she muttered, “You’re such a jerk.”

Hard to get offended when her voice was still husky from panting and coming. Still…no chance at punishing a little submissive should be overlooked. “For that, I’m going to spank you later,” he whispered in her ear.

She stiffened, making him grin. And the redhead would get off on being spanked—he’d see to it. He pulled her closer, feeling her softness all along his front.

Some people played in the bath with rubber ducks. Damn fools. Nothing was better than a flushed, trembling woman, scented with satisfaction.

After pushing her under the spray, he scrubbed her, making her dance as he played with her pussy and cleaned her tender little asshole.

Might be fun to see how sore she was there later tonight.

After he pulled on clean jeans and a work shirt, he helped her dry off, then gave her a set of sweats that would fit almost anyone. Ugly but adequate. Before she could complain, he warned, “Better hurry. Your half hour is almost up.”

As she glared, he smothered a laugh and prudently left.

Did she realize he enjoyed pissing her off, just to see that cute expression on her face?

After checking the parking area, he knew the kids hadn’t arrived yet. Soon though. He considered the next hour or so and shook his head ruefully. Be a rough evening. Lots of waterworks.

Might be smart to plan a distraction. He rubbed his chin. Maybe Nicole would like to join them.

Linda rose from the porch swing as her children ran up to the house. They were all right, no bandages, no limping, no scars. But they looked…awkward. Unsure.

Old memories flowed through her. Charles squealing with laughter when he’d taken his first step and landed on his diapered bottom. Brenna’s perpetually scabbed knees. Their bickering when Charles climbed a tree and Brenna couldn’t. Their angelic faces when asleep. Her eyes blurred with tears. God, she loved them.

“Mommy.” Brenna flung herself into Linda’s arms.

Charles wrapped his arms around both of them. His cheek against her temple was wet, and Brenna was sobbing. What in the world had Sam said to them?

But now, now, she reveled in having her children back, in holding her girl, in trying to hug Charles and, as always, being shocked that he was taller than she was. Her babies had grown up, and she should treat them like adults. Talk over the problem. “Let’s sit down, guys,” she said to Brenna, then squeezed Charles’s hand.

As she took a seat on the swing, she noticed the end table held an iced tea, a root beer, and a Pepsi. Sam. But how did he know the children’s preferences? She glanced around and saw him strolling toward the barn with Connagher trailing along. Were sadists supposed to be so tactful?

Brenna joined her on the swing, and Charles pulled a chair so close their knees touched.

“Now, tell me what’s going on.” Linda strove for an even voice, knowing that only Sam’s nonchalance—and shower diversion—had prevented her from fretting herself sick.

Brenna’s eyelids were red and swollen. “Your friend, he said…” She choked, and tears ran down her face.

Linda turned to Charles.

His hands were in fists on his knees. “He told us what you went through. Mom, we didn’t know. We would never… We didn’t know!”

Sam, that rat bastard. She sighed. Sam wouldn’t have exaggerated or lied. He would have given them only the truth. “I see.”

“You should have told us.” Brenna had a death grip on Linda’s hand and now gave it a shake. “Why didn’t you tell us how horrible it was?”

“I…” Linda blinked back her own tears. Having her babies so upset made her chest hurt. “I didn’t want… It was hard enough on you, just hearing I’d been kidnapped. You didn’t need more.”

“You tried to spare us, and so we dumped all over you.” Charles gave a half laugh and opened her root beer. His hand trembled as he handed her the can, then gave Brenna her iced tea. “Your friend is pretty protective.”

“I’m sorry. Sam shouldn’t have—”

“He should.” Charles’s lips firmed. “Thank God, he did.”

Brenna leaned against Linda. “We needed to know, Mommy.”

Brenna hadn’t called her Mommy in years. Linda felt a tear escape. Somehow, she had a feeling she’d never have the heart to yell at Sam for interfering.

“Can you forgive us?” Charles had never lacked the courage to admit his mistakes. “Forgive me?”

Brenna snorted, snuggling closer. “She already did, dummy.”

“I did.” Linda slid a few inches over on the swing, making room for her boy on her other side. Three was crowded…but wonderful.

Sam did his evening chores early since he’d have company for supper. Be odd to have a full table. When his father had been alive, neighbors, friends, and relatives had often stayed for a meal. His stepfather had changed all that.

After a glance at Linda and the kids on the front porch, he and Conn swung around and used the back door.

Potatoes and chicken went in the oven to bake. Hopefully the kids weren’t vegetarian, but he put together a big green salad just in case.

Through the open front door came only murmuring. No wailing. No shouting. Good sign.

Even as Conn gave a happy bark and charged out the screen door, Sam heard tires on the drive. Nicole must have arrived. After grabbing a beer, he stepped out onto the porch. All three on the swing showed signs of a fair amount of tears, and goddamn, he hated seeing Linda upset. If she cried from a flogging or spanking, that was acceptable—even enjoyable—but this was a stab in the gut.

Yet the three were pressed together as close as they could get. All better, as Nicole would say. Now they needed time to get back to normal. He gave the kids a firm stare. “You’ll stay for supper. My daughter will join us.”

Linda gave him a startled look, then dimpled as her children nodded agreement.

Good enough. He leaned against the side porch railing and watched Nicole jump out of her Volkswagen Beetle. Back when he was young, most Bugs were splashed with paint in varying designs. Guess he should be grateful hers was merely bright yellow. She wore her usual jeans and layered tank tops, and—he sighed—she’d dyed her short hair black. Women. No man could understand them.

She trotted up and gave him a fierce hug. “Good timing, Dad. I didn’t have a thing in the fridge, and I’m starving. What’s for supper?”

He hugged her back, his pride in her as uncontrolled as a wildfire. Tough. Smart. Compassionate. How’d he gotten so lucky? Arm around her, he turned toward the others. “Linda, this is my daughter, Nicole. Those are Linda’s kids, Charles and Brenna.” He waited until they finished with the polite greetings. “Nicole, give Charles and Brenna a tour while Linda and I finish cooking. Figure forty-five minutes.”

“Sounds good.” She went up on her tiptoes and whispered, “Bad Daddy. What did you do to them?”

He choked down a laugh as Nicole waved the other two toward the yard, saying, “What do you want to see first?”

As the three headed down the steps, Charles asked her, “Aren’t you in my sociology class? Mondays at ten?”

“I knew I’d seen you before. What’s your major?”

Sam shook his head. Amazing how well kids could rebound. After setting his beer on the end table, he joined Linda on the swing. When he put his arm around her and pulled her closer, she sighed and snuggled in. A worry drained away; she wasn’t furious with him. “All made up?”

“We are.” She gave him a glare, although her puffy eyes and tear streaks removed the power. “What did you tell them, Sam?”

“Just the truth.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and pulled her closer for a slow kiss. “I can understand why you didn’t share with them, but not knowing caused a rift between you.”

“Yes.” She yanked his hair lightly. “I should wallop you for making them cry, but thank you.” Her breath hitched. “God, Sam, thank you. I have my babies back.”

He understood her relief. He and Nicole had gone through a few ugly battles. Felt like a hole in the heart when she was mad at him.

They rocked for a while as the children stopped at the fountain in the front yard circle to admire the koi, then headed for the pasture behind the stable. The horses, ever greedy, trotted to the fence for handouts. Above the orchards, puffy clouds broke up the blue of the sky. The cooling air held the scent of the ocean mixed with the pastures. Next to him, Linda smelled of his soap, and he liked it, possessive bastard that he was.

“Come and set the table for me,” he said eventually and hauled her to her feet.

“Five of us,” Linda said. As he pulled out the chicken and potatoes, she added a leaf to the table and found place settings.

The thumping of feet and laughter came through the screen door as the kids stopped on the porch to finish their drinks. Nicole’s clear voice drifted in. “Dad, kinky? Oh, somebody said something once, but ew… Thinking of my father having sex makes me want to bleach my brain, right?”

Linda snorted and flashed him a grin.

“Goes both ways. Don’t like thinking of Nicole with some asshole,” Sam muttered. “When she started dating, I hung a bullwhip by the door. Just in case…”

And why the hell should that make Linda bust out laughing?

After a long, cheerful supper, Linda’s children gave her warm hugs and followed Nicole out to the cars. Back to their lives.

As Linda strummed Sam’s guitar, her eyes welled with tears…again. The possibility of losing her babies had shaken her more than she’d ever want to admit. Bless Sam.

At her smothered sob, he glanced up and, seeing her tears, shook his head in reproof. But he didn’t speak, just continued braiding leather in an intricate pattern around a whipstock. His very silence wove a spell of peace in the room.

And as she watched the sureness of his lean fingers, she felt a flush of heat from her toes to her fingers. She remembered all too well those hard hands on her body. Wanted his hands on her again. Honestly, she was turning into a nympho.

At my age. How funny—both of them had adult children. She smiled and switched to fingerpicking an old ballad. Sam had a lovely daughter. Intelligent, friendly, and quirky with outrageous opinions on everything, ranging from Tampa politics to earthworms. Sam had merely listened with laughter in his eyes. He never said anything openly affectionate to his girl, nothing like the “I love you’s” that she and her children had exchanged, but now and then, he’d wrap an arm around the girl’s waist and give her a squeeze or ruffle her spiky black hair. The love was there.

Nicole’s comment about not wanting to know about her father’s sex life had been…interesting. Then again, Sam had said he didn’t bring women home. Not that he ever explained any more about that. Or anything. She frowned down at the strings of the guitar. Was that reticence who Sam was, or was there another reason? Sometimes, it would be so much easier to talk things over if she really knew him.

When he met her eyes, she realized she’d been staring at him. He gave her a half smile. “Let me put this away, and we can watch a show if you want.”

“Okay.”

After nudging Conn over so he could rise, Sam walked out of the room.

Linda returned the guitar to its rack and curled into a corner of the couch, trying to muster up her courage. With no fire in the fireplace, the room seemed to have chilled. She considered pulling out her basketry. Her fingers needed something to do.

Big hands closed around hers. “What’s bothering you, girl?” Seated on the oversize leather ottoman, Sam studied her face.

She cleared her throat. “About today.”

He waited.

Darn him, it would help if he prompted her or something. “I-I appreciate what you did. To get my children back. I guess I won’t kill you for interfering.”

His lips quirked. “Guess I can sleep easy tonight.”

Hitting him now would be unwise. “About the shower. I wanted to…” There was no easy way to talk about this. How did other submissives manage?

His eyes grew intense. “Just spit it out.”

“I’m submissive.”

“Yes.”

“But I can’t be that way except…”

“Do it now, slut.”

“Present yourself to the buyer, slut.”

She bit her lip as nausea roiled inside her.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, then plucked her from the couch and sat with her in his lap.

“Sam!”

His left arm curved around her shoulders, holding her against his chest. With his right hand, he tilted her head up, brushing his thumb over her chin. “See if you can talk easier like this,” he said.

She curled her fingers around his forearm. He’d derailed her thoughts. “I can’t figure it out.”

“Figure what out, baby?”

She stared into his eyes. Sometimes, the pale blue of his eyes had a darker rim. “The…they kept us under control. All the time. And now, now, I can’t let you do that. Because of them. I need to know—to agree to—”

“To give up your power,” he suggested softly.

“Yes. And when you yanked me into the shower, I…” She dredged up all the honesty she could find, opening herself. “I liked it. I did. But it scared me too, because if you tell me to do some slavey thing, something I really don’t want to do, I’m not sure I’d refuse. I sometimes don’t know if I obey you because they…conditioned…me or because I want to.”

“Go on.”

Her throat tightened with frustration. She couldn’t explain because she didn’t really understand it herself. “I just want limits on when…when you order me around.” Her breathing hitched.

“Shhh.” He tucked her head against his shoulder, letting her get herself back under control. Not driving her to expose more, to bare her soul.

Her breathing steadied.

“Between a Dom and sub, most things are negotiable.” He pushed her hair out of her face. “I have certain requirements. I want to be in control when it comes to sex.” He considered and added, “I like demanding sex when I want it, but I can give in there.”

She raised her head. “You didn’t exactly back off earlier.”

“No.” He traced his finger down her jaw. “That was my next point. Making you kneel or strip or do menial labor? Not interested. But if it comes to your well-being, I’m not flexible.” His square jaw hardened. “This afternoon, I wasn’t about to let you fret yourself sick.”

Oh. Her gaze traced down the strong line of his neck to his right shoulder. The shirtsleeve covered the rocklike bulge of his biceps and was rolled up over his thick forearm. He had the strength to enforce anything he wanted. Like he had this afternoon.

But she hadn’t felt dirty when he’d dragged her into the shower, maybe because he’d said why he was forcing her to cooperate. “If you figure to worry until they show, think again.” It hadn’t been an arbitrary act. “Maybe that will work,” she whispered. “If there’s a reason. More than you just want to…to…”

“Flaunt my control over you?” he finished in a dry voice.

“Yes.” She looked up with butterflies in her stomach. He didn’t look upset, just thoughtful.

“Then we’ll limit power exchanges to this: I control everything dealing with sex…or pain. You always have a safe word. Timing is negotiable unless I step in for your safety or health.”

Really? She felt as if she’d been braced against a hard wind that had just disappeared, leaving her falling forward. Looking him in the eyes, she agreed. “Yes.” In a lower voice, she added, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He traced his finger around her mouth. “I should warn you, though. I’ll find other methods to get my way.”

She stiffened. “Like?”

“Like it’s your turn to pick the movie. But if it has a romance in it, I’m going to play with the pussy whip as well as spank your ass.”

Oh heavens. She couldn’t keep from squirming at the memory of that whip. She wanted—didn’t want—wanted that intense torment again. And the most sadistic part was now she couldn’t decide whether to pick a romance or not.

From the evil glint in his ice-colored eyes, he’d deliberately left her with that dilemma.