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“Aye, I can. Let me get closer.” He takes me in his arms, holding me tight.
It feels so good to be back like this, him wrapped around me, warm and protective. I reach up, brushing my fingers over the stubble along his jaw. “You shaved your beard.”
“Yeah. It was this whole—” He shakes his head. “Never mind.”
I tap his bare chin, echoing old words back to him. “Who told you that you could do this?”
“Is that what I said to you when you dyed your hair?” he asks.
“Aye,” I say. “And you did some dirty deeds to me because of it.”
“I won’t make any more major decisions without you,” he says. “Promise.”
A funny thought comes over me. “Does this mean I get to punish you if you do?”
“No. No way.” Changing positions, he says, “Never.” He grabs my wrists, pinning them to the pillow above my head. He hovers over me. “Now, tell me what you wouldn’t tell me on the phone. You said you wouldnae come home to me until you told me your one condition.”
“Not till you let me go.” I put on my best lawyer tone—the one I’ve picked up from Freya and her gang. “And because of your terrible acts, now two conditions must be met before I even consider, as you say, returning home. Two. Not one.”
He eyes me, torn between wanting to be in control and knowing, at this moment, I hold every ounce of power in our relationship.
Finally, he exhales. “Fine.” He releases my wrists.
I rise, elbow into the mattress, propping the side of my face against my palm. The earlier thought of being in control tickles the back of my mind. It’s intriguing, the idea of me being the sexy one…
The one calling the shots, making his heart race, making him beg.
I make my decision, raising a brow like he would. “I’m taking charge. On your back.”
“Do I have a choice?” he asks, a naughty grin coming over his face.
“Do as you’re told,” I say. “On. Your. Back.”
The look he gives me is so heated, such a sexy look, I almost lose my nerve and give up. Relinquish control and beg him to do those things he does to me. He has that kind of hold over me.
He rolls from his side to his back. “Yes, ma’am.”
I crawl over him, and he shifts his weight to the center so I can put one knee on either side of his waist. It feels oh-so-good to be this close to him again.
I flatten both my palms against his chest. “Much better.”
“Aye. I agree. You’re gorgeous. And I get to see all of you from here.” He smooths his hands over the tops of my thighs, up and down, slowly, staring up at me like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
He makes me feel like I am.
Maybe I am…to him.
Taking his wrists, I slowly guide his arms above his head, leaving them lying there against the bed.
“No touching,” I say. “Keep your hands right where they are.”
Gripping the hem of my raggedy old T-shirt, I begin to lift it. Slowly, teasingly, never taking my eyes from his face. His lip runs over his lips, greedy for more.
“I’m not wearing anything under these clothes,” I say, inching the shirt up and exposing my breasts.
“Fiona,” he moans.
He reaches out to caress my bare breasts, and I stop, leaving the shirt around my neck. “No touching.”
