Page 8 of Wait for Him

“I don't have it in me to go easy on you tonight,” I continue. “And I don't know you well enough to trust that you won't ignore your own limits because you're embarrassed or because you've decided tapping out means losing. I'm not interested in finding out afterward that you endured something you didn't actually want because you were trying to impress me.”

“Then let me be in control.”

“That is not fucking happening.”

The words come out sharper and louder than I meant, and his jaw tightens immediately.

I roll my shoulders, forcing away the tension that filled them. “I'm not a switch,” I say more quietly. “That's not a negotiation or something I'm refusing to do for you. It's just who I am.”

He watches me for a few seconds before reaching into his back pocket. I expect him to leave, and some disappointing little part of me is already preparing to watch that beautiful ass walk out the door.

Instead, he pulls out his phone. When he holds it up, RAG is open to his profile with active matches.

“I'm not standing here desperate for sex,” he says. “I could leave right now and find someone else tonight, and we both know that's true.”

I raise an eyebrow because somewhere between the elevator and here, Blondie found some confidence.

“But I don't want to.” His eyes stay fixed on mine. “It's something about you, Rosepetal. I want you.”

Neither of us says anything for a moment.

I study his face, looking for bravado and finding something far more inconvenient instead. Earnestness. He isn't puffing his chest out anymore or trying to convince me he's experienced enough to handle whatever I throw at him. He's simply telling me what he wants and leaving the decision with me.

I can respect that. Even when it complicates things.

“Sit on the edge of the bed.”

His exhale is almost imperceptible, but I catch it as he starts toward the bed.

“And Jack.”

He stops and looks back at me.

“The word is red. If anything crosses a line, that's your word. I don't care about your ego; I don't care whether you think you should be able to handle more, and I don't care if we're thirty seconds in. You use it.”

“Okay.”

“Say it back to me.”

“Red.” His voice is steady now. “I'll use it.”

“Good boy.” I watch the words affect him exactly how they did downstairs before adding, “And it's yes, ma'am moving forward. Do you understand?”

His throat moves before he answers.

“Yes, ma'am.”

There it is.

That familiar pull of anticipation moves through me, and I have to resist letting my satisfaction show too quickly. This is exactly what I needed tonight. I just hope he understands what he's volunteered for.

He sits on the edge of the bed as instructed, knees apart, hands resting against his thighs while he watches me approach. I stop directly in front of him, close enough that he has no choice but to tilt his head back to meet my eyes.

Now, this I like.

Without my heels, the man has nearly a foot on me. He could probably pick me up without exerting himself, and yet here he sits, looking up at me because I told him to.

The contrast sends a quiet thrill through me.