his close attention to it.
“It made me wonder if you like watching the public sessions because a Dom and sub are exploring that intense immersion in detail. Their mission is this one focused goal, a goal the Dom always has to keep in sight, yet the journey to that goal is indescribable. The immersion itself is a drug, something you miss when you no longer have it. No matter how brutal or bloody it can be, how it tears you open or pushes you past your boundaries, you always want to go back for more.”
She had his full attention now. Interestingly, that was all she had. Everything else had closed up, reminding her of a coiled snake, so close his fangs could reach her if he chose to strike. She could vividly imagine what it would be like if Max struck. Passion was a form of controlled violence, and she expected Max did controlled violence very well, if the quick shift from gray cloud to molten steel in his piercing gaze was any indication. Though he hadn’t moved, he felt much closer, the way something did when it became far more dangerous.
“Why haven’t you tried it, since you like watching?” she asked.
He lifted a hand toward her face. She intercepted it, a simple lift of her hand. When she pressed her knuckles against his palm, her long nails gleaming, she didn’t push it away, just held enough pressure against it to keep him from touching her face. He let the hand stay there though, hovering near her lips, her lifted chin.
“You want to play it out this way?” His voice was a rumble.
“Do you?”
He closed his hand, put it back down on the truck hood next to her leg. “I’m not the Master type. I’m protective enough, but I couldn’t tie up a woman or strike her. Even spanking. It’s not how I roll.”
“Yet I’ll bet you’ve psychologically dominated every woman you’ve been with. Just taken her over with that alpha vibe and made her surrender. You’ve got the conqueror in you. Of course, sometimes you find that in a sub as well.”
He chuckled at that. “I definitely couldn’t be on the other side, ma’am.”
“Most of us could be on either side. And you’d be infinitely fascinating either way.” She closed her hand over his thick wrist, the one attached to his braced hand. “Notice when I touch you like this, everything between us gets still, focused, intent. What am I about to do? What are you reading from me, and me from you? There’s an intensity to it. You’re trusting me to care for you, watch your back, no matter what. And I’m trusting you to do the same for me. Because whichever one is holding the reins, we both hold one another’s souls, even if it’s just for a short space of time.”
He lifted his gaze, locked with hers. It recalled the night at the hospital, when he was holding Matt, yet the two of them couldn’t look away from each other. That was really what she’d been unable to forget or dismiss, wasn’t it?
He put his other hand over hers, fingers sliding over her knuckles, a lingering caress. Then he squeezed it, stepped back, taking both his hands away. “Maybe I’ll come in sometime when I’m bringing Matt or one of the others. Just see if you’re there and go from that point. It feels like it needs to be that way. More unplanned.”
“Less controlled.”
“Is that a problem?” She detected a hint of challenge in his tone, and met it with a cool gaze.
“Not for me.” She glanced at her shoes, bemused when he immediately understood her desire. He retrieved them, sliding them back on her feet, his fingers once again sending those lovely ribbons of sensation spiraling around her calves and inner thighs.
When she put her hands on his shoulders, she indulged the desire to slide her fingertips from the broad span up closer to his neck. His grip on her waist increased, his thumbs caressing her hip bones beneath the skirt, which sent a definite arrow of reaction between her legs. Her nipples tightened beneath the lacy bra. This man would be a
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley