"Not sure I can do that with the specter of our upcoming nuptials," she retorts.
"Forget about that. Forget about the fact that you’re a doctor, that I'm a Mafia guy you love to hate. Forget about everything except that we are here, unable to go anywhere, and that we’re attracted to each other."
She swallows, then holds up her hand. "No more corny dialogue from you now, please."
"How about I show you, instead?"
"What?" She scowls. "Please don’t ask me to stop thinking and start feeling or something stupid like that."
I laugh. "Trust me, I’m as good with my words as I am with other parts of my anatomy."
She folds her arms around her waist. "This isn’t going to work."
"At least, give it a chance." I bend my knees and peer into her eyes. "Can you do that for me?"
27
Aurora
Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. I peer into his eyes. Take in the sparks in the depths of that blue gaze. Something hot stabs at my chest. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of fighting him, or the fact that he had rescued me from the pond finally sinks in, or maybe… All this talk about his cock and sex and about giving up control finally gets to me. Either way, I can’t stop myself from whispering, "Okay."
His gaze widens, then he nods. "Good."
"That’s all you’re going to say, good?"
"It’s just the start, baby."
The use of that endearment makes my pussy throb. Shit, what the hell is wrong with me? How could I have given in to him so easily? Now he’s going to think that he can take me for granted, that he can ask me to do anything, and I’ll obey.
"Don’t," he says in a sharp voice. "Don’t do that."
"What?"
"Whatever you’re thinking, don’t go there."
"You have no idea what’s on my mind."
He chuckles. "Oh, I have a good idea. It’s written all over your face that you are going to freak out."
"I’m not going to freak out." I swallow. "I might hyperventilate a little…" I try to smile but my chin wobbles, "…but that’s par for the course."
"You don’t have to worry about anything from now on."
That’s what I’m afraid of.
"All you have to do is trust me, Flower." He peers into my eyes. "Can you do that?"
"I…" I swallow. "I’m not sure," I reply honestly.
"I won’t do anything that you don’t want me to do." He frowns. "Unless, of course, I think it’s good for you."
"How can you say that?" I throw up my hands, then slap his chest when he chuckles.
"You think this is a joke? All of this—you proposing this stupid arrangement which, by the way, I could have told you for free that it wouldn’t work, and now suggesting we play this stupid BDSM game."
"Not a game," he presses his palm over mine and holds it to his chest, "and BDSM is not stupid. It’s one way of learning to test your limits and find out what you enjoy, find out just what reserves you hold inside of yourself. Find out" he leans in close enough for our breaths to tangle, "just how many ways I can make you come."
My belly trembles. My core clenches. Moisture trickles down my thigh. I dig my heels into the ground, so I don’t do something stupid … like close the remaining distance between us and throw myself at him and beg him to do with me as he wants. Gosh, why is this so difficult? Why can’t I simply let go as he’s asking me to? Why am I fighting myself so much?