“That’s not my thing, but if you’re into BDSM I’m willing to give it a go.”
I sneer at him. “That’s a hard no. For the record, a man can laugh with a woman, treat her with kindness and respect, and still be all alpha, big and strong and scary.”
“I get it now. Man card. I prefer the term pussy whipped.”
I squirm in my seat, grateful when the lights of the airport appear. “With that mouth, I don’t see how anyone could think you’ve gone soft.”
“Oh, cara. With your mouth, I don’t think I’ll ever be soft.”
I’m surprised when Stone acts like a perfect gentleman the rest of the night. I don’t miss his salacious grin while we sip on coffee in the living room of his yacht. Clearly, he’s thinking about earlier in the night when he brought me to orgasm.
I’ve never let a man do that to me. I’m not a prude, and I want to be the object of a man’s affection, but constantly looking over my shoulder for not only mine and Mama’s safety, but also stressing about her brain damage, never left me time to date.
I definitely don’t fall into the range of women Stone is used to being with. He’s said so many times. A man who talks like him, looks like him, behaves like him, doesn’t attract the girl next door, which is the kind of girl I turned into after leaving Italy.
We are quiet in the final stretch home. Once back at the estate, he surprises me and takes my hand, walking me to my room. I expect him to make a move. I’ve planned out my rejection many times. I’ll stand my ground. I’m not going to welcome Stone into my bed. He’ll hurt me whether he means to or not.
“Buona Notte.” He picks up my hand and kisses my fingers before going to his room, gently closing his door behind him.
Tomorrow is going to be a long day.