“Shut. Up.”
She was fierce now. All cat with claws.
“You read widely because you still think you have to catch up. You sleep with women you pay for because it’s a contract and the rules are clear. This, being here with me, it’s wildly out of the ordinary for you too.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m speculating. Am I wrong?”
She had her hands on her hips. The neck of the robe was slashed opened to her waist. It was getting harder and harder to hold out against her. “You hated telling me you that, didn’t you?”
She could drag admissions out of the devil. “I prefer a neat Scotch.”
“You hate the idea of letting go, maybe losing control.”
“I’d prefer you in my lap. Come here.”
“Don’t dodge the question.” She frowned at him. “I don’t want to be in your lap.”
“You want to be at my feet? I don’t understand.”
“I want to unravel you.”
He stood up. This had to stop now. “That’s not on the program.”
“Then the program’s wrong.”
She came at him and it occurred to him it might be sensible to back away. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking you to trust me.”
“It’s not about me trusting you.”
“What’s it about?”
This was ridiculous. He laughed. “Me not trusting me.”
She stood toe to toe with him. Shorter by a head. She held his gaze. “I dare you.”
“This isn’t some game. You’re playing with fire.”
“God I hope so.” She eye-rolled as though this was a mere irritant.
He stroked his hand down her hair, gripped the back of her neck. “I didn’t get scratched up because I’m a sweet loving person.”
“You’re telling me you’re a brawler.”
“And then some.”
“So you’re scared you might hit me?”
He recoiled, dropped his hold on her and stepped back. She wasn’t clever to keep pushing this. He’d cut his own arm off before he’d hit a woman, but there were oh so many other ways to hurt them.
“When’s the last time you hit someone?”
He had to think. He hadn’t hit anything in anger bigger than a squash ball in a very long time. “That’s not the point.”
“You truly think you might hurt me and that’s why you hold back.”