In the Den by Sierra Cartwright Read Free Book Online

she was.
    “What do you hate about it?”
    “It hurts my neck.”
    “Fair enough. Anything else?”
    “It’s subservient.”
    “If you want to look at it that way.”
    She exhaled, not sure why she was still on her knees. But him talking to her, rather than walking away, made it possible. “What other possible way is there?”
    “You tell me.”
    “Has anyone ever told you how frustrating you are?”
    “Once or twice, perhaps.” A tiny smile ghosted his lips.
    This side of him, light, jovial, was endearing. Her self-consciousness was ebbing. Because he treated it as if it were natural, it seemed that way.
    This was different from the way she interacted with her boys. They showed up ready to play and she accommodated their desires. Before each one’s arrival, she set the scene, getting out her toys, arranging them, and when they walked through the door, she took charge right away. Damien had as well, but with his unique flair. He was gentler than she’d mentally planned for. A harder-edged Damien would have brought out a similar response in her. Instead, she found her defenses crumbling.
    He waited.
    She drank in his silent strength. He stood with his denim-clad legs slightly apart. The leather on his boots was well-worn, and his belt looked supple, as if it were an old friend. He wore a short-sleeved, dark T-shirt that showed off his biceps. His muscular build was so damn sexy.
    Sometimes he pulled back his longish hair and secured it, but tonight it was untamed, curling well below his nape.
    She’d always thought of him as elegantly rough, but tonight, she saw a different side of him, patiently resolved.
    After a full thirty seconds during which he said nothing, she answered, “You asked me to kneel to ease my nerves.”
    “You’re a quick study.” He captured that stray lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “You were nervous. I wasn’t expecting that, so I changed my approach. The longer I allowed you to think about things, the more you’d be tempted to run. But you needed time to get comfortable with me as well as yourself and the dynamic of your new role. I don’t want you to overthink the moment. But there’s more. I like to look at you. And yes, if you can relax enough to think about what I want and transcend your conflicting thoughts, you complying with my requests can bring us both pleasure.”
    He hadn’t yet touched her in anything other than a casual way. There was no doubt he was earning her trust.
    “When you’re ready, I’d like you to sit on the peninsula.” He pointed to the expanse of quartz with the barstools beneath it.
    His request shocked her. Since he didn’t appear to be joking, she rose and walked the short distance, aware of his gaze on her rear end.
    She put her arms behind her and leveraged herself into position. Suddenly she wished she’d taken a gulp of her wine while she’d had the chance.
    “You look more spectacular than I’d imagined.”
    “You thought this up in advance?” she asked, crossing her legs.
    “Oh, yes.”
    “You’re a wicked man.”
    “You have no idea, Milady. Please lie back and uncross your legs.”
    Catrina wrinkled her nose. “Are you planning what I think you’re planning?”
    “I hope so.”
    “I’m not sure about this.”
    “You can always refuse,” he reminded her.
    “No way.”
    “I didn’t think you would.”
    “Don’t gloat.”
    “Never, Milady.”
    Milady again. From him, it sounded more affectionate than a term of respect. But she didn’t mind.
    “You may be more comfortable if you remove that contraption from your hair.”
    She reached up, but halted when he asked, “May I?”
    “Thank you.”
    He pulled out the chopstick and her hair tumbled around her shoulders and down her back. “Doesn’t matter which way you wear it,” he said, “it’s fabulous.” He smoothed it to one side. “Now let’s get on with it.”
    The quartz slab beneath her bare body was firm and cool, a startling contrast to