Page 99 of You Make Me Feel
“You’ll love it,” he says, casually picking up his fork.
I do. The first bite melts on my tongue, and I let out a soft moan that makes him groan under his breath.
“You keep making that noise, and I’m going to have to carry you out of here,” he murmurs.
“Maybe I want you to,” I say, before taking another bite.
The pasta slides down too well. And all I can think about is how I love this. Being here with him, eating with him.
Feeling the way he can’t tear his gaze away from me.
“Did you ever think it was strange,” I ask him. “That I wanted you to chase me? That I got…” I let out a breath. “I don’t know. Turned on by it?”
He blinks, like he’s really considering my question. Another thing I like about him. He doesn’t give glib responses. He really thinks about his words.
“No.” He shakes his head. “There’s nothing strange about being turned on by power plays. Which is really whatthat night was about. And it’s nothing to be ashamed about either. You wanted something, I wanted to give it to you. And I think we both enjoyed it.”
The way he says it, so honestly, so clear, makes something in my chest twist. “You enjoyed being the hunter?” I ask him.
His lips part. “There’s something, I don’t know, primal I guess, in most men. Including me. It’s not like I want to be constantly dominant, the same way you don’t want to be constantly submissive. But there are times and places when playing those roles can be very enjoyable. Especially when sex is involved.”
I let out a breath. “So you enjoyed it too?”
He smirks. “Couldn’t you tell?”
A smile pulls at my lips. “Well, yes. But…”
“But nothing. I enjoyed it very much. Seeing you give something so precious up to me, if only for a few hours, was a turn on.”
Our eyes meet. And I feel the need rising in me again. “Would you do it again?”
“Hunt you?”
I shake my head. “Not necessarily a hunt. I mean, just play with the power part. Is that what you like?”
The corner of his lip lifts. “Is that whatyoulike?” he asks softly, like he’s trying to read my thoughts.
“Sometimes,” I whisper.
His gaze dips to my mouth. “Is that what you need, baby?”
The way he says it sends a shot of pleasure through my body. “I think so,” I breathe.
He pauses for a moment, like he’s considering my words. Then he nods at my pasta. “Eat your dinner.”
And I don’t know if this is part of the play, or just hisneed to boss me, but I pick my fork up anyway, spearing a noodle into my mouth.
He does the same, eating his steak, and when he’s done, he drains the last of his whiskey.
Then he looks at me like a man with a plan. Maybe a man who needs this as much as I do.
“Go to my apartment,” he says, his voice low, sliding the key across to me.
I arch a brow. “Now?”
“Yes. Take a shower. Get relaxed.”
I shift in my seat, my thighs pressing together. “And what will you be doing?” But I think I already know.
