“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” He took his own bite and watched the flare of rebellion flicker over her expression. He lifted an eyebrow, daring her to challenge him, but to her credit she held back her natural instinct to lash out.
Her eyes narrowed as she took a sip of water. “That wasn’t a mushroom, was it?”
“Snail.”
She winced. “Fabulous. Maybe a warning next time, cowboy.”
“You could’ve asked me what it was. Did you like it?”
She grabbed another piece of bread and dipped it in the sauce, skipping the snail. “Yes, but they could probably pour this butter sauce on your boot and it would make leather taste good.”
Hmm. Visions of Charli putting her lips to his shoe drifted through his mind. He smiled. Maybe she’d come to know exactly what leather tasted like before their two weeks were up. “That can be arranged if you’d like to test the theory.”
She coughed, half-choking on her last bite of bread. “Shit. Everything I say around here is going to get me in trouble. You’ll never catch me kissing any guy’s shoe.”
He leaned forward and put a finger to her lips. “No cursing. Unless we’re in bed, then it’s fair game. New, refined Charli is going to know how and when to speak like a lady.”
Her lips pursed beneath his finger.
“In fact, any time you slip up, you’ll earn a punishment of my choosing.”
She tried to bite his finger, but he pulled away in time. “I have a feeling I’m going to be spending most of these two weeks in time-out.”
“Oh, my punishments will be much more hands-on than putting you in a corner,” he promised. “And much more effective. Though, based on how you reacted to the belt the other day, I have a feeling you may enjoy that part.”
She didn’t have a pithy response this time. Instead, she took a sudden, deep interest in her open menu. But he knew she wasn’t deciding between steak or fish when a soft pink crept up her neck and found its way to her cheeks. My, my, maybe his little reporter had more of an appreciation for pain than he thought.
The sight had him wanting to skip dinner altogether. What exactly was she thinking about? Was her body warming at the thought of him disciplining her? Of him putting his hands on her? Because his temperature was certainly rising. Or was she simply embarrassed by the conversation?
She was such a puzzle. Coarse and hardheaded, beautiful and awkward, intelligent and driven. Anyone who met her would see right away she was a woman in charge of her life. But there, underneath all that, seemed to be something so vulnerable and innocent. Fragile, even.
And that had him both hungry for her and damn terrified.
Because if he could tear through all that other stuff, get to the core of where that glimmer was coming from, he was afraid he may not want to take her collar off when two weeks was up.
And there wasn’t much he wouldn’t try in this world.
But permanent wasn’t in his vocabulary.
TWELVE
Charli could barely focus on chewing her fish. Why was she so damn jittery? It was as if her blood had been replaced with Red Bull. She’d thought she could hold her own with Grant. She’d even managed to banter with him at the beginning of dinner, despite him looking so damn hot in that suit of his.
But as the conversation had gone on, she’d felt the shift in their dynamic. Like tilting a water table, the power had rolled over to him. He corrected her posture, her bad language, the way she kept tugging at the low-cut bodice of her dress. He was subtle about it, but she didn’t miss the significance. She had agreed to put herself in his hands. To be his…property.
The thought was still too much to wrap her head around. She’d spent half her life wiggling out from under her father’s and brothers’ crushing overprotectiveness, and now here she was giving the power over to a guy. Maybe all those concussions had caused some brain damage.
Grant glanced at her uneaten dinner, frowned. “Did you read through the contracts I sent you?”
Boy, had she. Some of the items listed in those papers had made her eyes pop…and others had made her body stir—even if the whole idea of a contract felt sort of clinical. She set her fork down and tried to drink some iced tea, hoping her voice wouldn’t croak when it came out. “I did.”
“Did you add any hard limits to mine?” he asked, his tone as casual as if they were discussing whether the Cowboys would make it to the playoffs this year. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers.
She’d looked closely at his limits. Most had been things related to The Ranch’s rules and safety. He’d also included his medical test results and had her verify hers. The only one that had stood out was that his sub was not allowed to stay at his cabin. She would be provided her own space.
Even though she knew this wasn’t a real relationship and hadn’t been expecting overnight cuddling or whatever, seeing it in black and white had still stung a bit. She decided he needed a little poke as well. “Yes. I added one.”
“Oh? Pray tell.”