“What’s this?” I asked, knowing what it was but wondering what it meant.
“It’s…research.”
“For the book you’re working on?”
“That too.” He moved around to the front of me and tilted his head, as though admiring the effect of me in a collar.
“The first time I saw you, I thought you were hot even though you were an unwelcome nuisance. I’m not sure, even if I went back in time and told myself how things were going to play out, that I would have believed it.”
He sat heavily in a chair directly across from me, the firelight bathing half of his gorgeous face in light. Shadow obliterated the other half, as though reminding me of the darker impulses this man possessed.
Zero was more willing to laugh and joke than Vandal was, and was more affectionate, but that didn’t mean he was safe. How had I gotten myself into the position of playing dangerous games with such large men?
I felt more alive than I had in years.
“What wouldn’t you believe?”
He suddenly looked self-conscious and shrugged. “That I’d feel this way about you.” He swallowed, then smiled wryly. “I mean, I thought you were hot when I met you, but now you’re drop-dead fucking gorgeous. Somehow, I didn’t notice that right away—probably because you landing on our doorstep was a pretty big shock. You were the enemy back then.”
Part of me—a big part—screamed with excitement, but part of me was feeling guilty because I knew it was going to break Vandal’s heart. If he actually had one.
“You’re drunk, Zero Thompson.”
He brandished his beer bottle at me as though in salute. “Liquid courage is a beautiful thing.”
“You feel this way about me even when you’re sober?”
“Maybe I’ve said too much. I mean, I want you to know that while I enjoy the games we’ve been playing with you—enjoy is such a mild word. I can’t think of an enthusiastic enough word right now, but I’m sure one will come to me eventually. While I enjoy the games we play together, it’s a lot more than that for me. I feel like we’re on the same wavelength about so many things, and I love talking to you.” He paused, absently swirling his beer, the bottle glowing amber with the firelight shining through the glass. “Anyway, I wanted you to know that before we start playing our next game together.”
Oh.
So this was more about him wanting to make sure that I felt like he respected me despite what he was planning to do.
I fought down a self-deprecating laugh. My drunken imagination had run away with me—I’d thought maybe he was going to ask if I would wear his collar. The hard truth was the collar was only a prop for his research, for the next game, and it didn’t mean anything to him except a new adventure.
It didn’t mean he cared about me the way Vandal seem to think he did. Vandal had been so sure, though, that he’d almost convinced me.
Someone like me was hardly cut out to be Zero’s submissive, or his girlfriend. He was hot, self-confident, funny, and sexy as hell. He had a sweet, sensitive side too, and we talked for hours about all sorts of things and had the same outlook on life. His career was thriving. The man even liked to cuddle.
Basically, he was perfect. I didn’t have much to offer him in return.
Of course he wasn’t thinking of me as a potential submissive. It was better for him that he wasn’t harboring any tender feelings for me past being friends and hanging out together—after all, I hadn’t done much of anything with my life, and I’d killed two of the three people who loved me.
The lump in my throat hurt, but I smiled at him, trying to match his enthusiasm. Whatever he had in mind was bound to be intense, and sharing the experience with him, and maybe Vandal, would have to be enough.
I ran my fingers over the smooth leather gripping my throat. “So this is foreshadowing? You’re finally going to use all that pet equipment you bought?”
“I’d planned to use it pretty much right away after I bought it, but your little hide-and-seek game happened and I sort of ad-libbed from there. I thought I should give you a few days to recover.”
“So kind. You’re practically a saint.”
“You know me—always treating a girl like the treasure she is.” He patted his lap, and reluctantly I got up and went to him, allowing myself to be pulled down into the cradle of his arms.
“Are we going to start now?” I asked, gazing up at his face. He kissed my forehead, with a sweet affection that made my heart ache because I knew he didn’t mean it the way I wished he did.
“No. Not until tomorrow, at least.”
“Are you stalling again?”
He tipped me toward his chest and gave my butt a playful swat. “No playing games under the influence. Considering what we’ve been doing, consent is already sketchy enough.”
“Afraid I’m going to sue you?”
“Afraid I’m going to step over the line and do something unforgivable.”
“Do you honestly think there’s anything I wouldn’t forgive you for at this point?” I asked, shifting on his lap to get more comfortable.
It was a stupid thing to say, but I was listening to the alcohol in my system instead of logic and self-preservation.
“That’s a dangerous thing to tell a sadist. You shouldn’t trust me as much as you do.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Be glad you’re not a telepath.”
“Maybe I should be asking if I scare you,” I said, tugging his ponytail.
“Why would I be afraid of you? It’s not like you’ve ever done anything threatening to me.”
I plucked the beer bottle out of his hand and took a swig. “No, but did you have any idea how twisted you actually were before I came along?”
He blew out a long breath. “That doesn’t make me afraid of you, that makes me afraid of me.”
“So I’ve taught you things about yourself the same as you’ve done with me?”
“Yes.” He shifted under me again, then turned me in his lap so that I was facing away from him, then spread my legs and put them over the arms of his Adirondack chair. “What have I taught you about yourself?”
“I’ve learned that I’m kinkier than I realized,” I admitted, wondering if I should even tell him that much.
“You’re into what we’ve been doing to you?”
“Do you honestly think this is just about research for me?”
“No, I guess that wouldn’t make any sense.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Out of all the people in the world who could have landed in our laps, you are the most twisted muse we could have asked for.”
For a few minutes we watched the fire, both of us lost in thought.
“What else?”
“What else what?”
His hand slid down between my thighs, the position he’d put me in giving him complete and direct access to any part of me he wanted.
“What else have we taught you about yourself?”
I tried to give the question actual consideration, but his hand definitely was not behaving. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and flexed my hips toward his fingers, wanting more since he seemed to be in the mood to tease rather than satisfy.