Page 50 of The Real Mason
She pauses as though contemplating her response. “Thank you. I’m glad you approve.”
I want to ask the right questions, find out what she’s thinking, discover what she’s been doing all this time and everything else in between. But the words kept getting jumbled up in my brain, because all I can think about is turning her over the arm of the sofa and hiking that skirt above her waist.
An idea pops into my head, and a slow smile slides over my lips—there’s one easy way to see where her mind is. It would cut right to the chase. It’s a calculated risk, but after the month I’ve had, I’m in a dangerous-enough mood to pull it off.
And I think I’m right.
Decision made, I nod. “I do approve. In fact, stand up, pull that skirt over your hips, and bend over that couch, girl.”
Heat darkens her eyes, and her breath hitches as her foot begins to sway. “And if I don’t?” Her voice is sly, devious.
Right then, I know I have her. She’s mine.
Relief, powerful and swift, lightens my chest and eases the tension I’ve been carrying around. It’s followed by a lust so primal everything else pales in comparison.
We can work everything else out later. Right now, I need to establish who’s in control here before she gets any wayward ideas about an uprising.
“I believe you’re acquainted with the dungeon.”
She shudders. “Don’t you think we should talk first? Find out what I have to say?”
“Probably.”
I mean, it is fair. Seems like what I should do. But when I meet her eyes, she doesn’t lower her gaze, just hits me head-on. Not timid at all.
I find I like that about her. It’s different. Maybe it’s not the rules, but we did everything backward anyway, so why not this? I propose a compromise.
“How about this? If you’re not wet when I touch you, we can talk first.”
Her thighs tighten, giving me all the answers I need.
Thank God I’m not going to have to live without her.
I give her my most cocky, knowing smile. “Shall we see what we’re dealing with here?”
The vee of her black sweater allows me to witness the quickening of her breath. Her pupils dilate. “And if I refuse?”
She’s testing me, although I don’t have the mental capacity to figure out why with all the blood rushing to my cock. I’ll get to the bottom of her motives later, when I can think again.
Right now, I tell her the simple truth. “Make no mistake, Anna. You’re going over that couch. How you get there and the price you pay is up to you. What’s it going to be?”
I sit back and lace my fingers over my stomach as though I have all the time in the world. In truth, she has about thirty seconds to comply before I take matters into my own hands.
I’m feeling ruthless. Demanding. There will be no patience with her tonight.
So it’s a damn good thing she doesn’t appear to need any. This woman wearing knee-high boots and a sinful smile isn’t looking for slow and easy. And I intend to give her what she needs. What we both need.
Her, under my control.
Or…is that the scotch talking and I’ve just made a grave tactical error?
I have to wait about twenty-nine of her thirty seconds to get my answer.
She stands, her expression sly and pleased.
Triumph stampedes through my blood, and all my sadness explodes into dust, just like the building I leveled today.
She straightens, throwing her shoulders back, hands on her hips, her legs spread apart. There’s not one thing shy about her. Hell, she looks like a warrior, decked out in ass-kicking black.
