She was going to like the tubs at the house he’d purchased. “What kinds of books do you read?” He knew the answer, but he had to ask.
“Romance,” she said without hesitation or embarrassment.
“Where you learned a little about bondage.”
She nodded. “A very little. It’s your turn.”
“My family. My club. Now you. This.”
“That may be cheating, but I like it.” She twisted her fingers in the covers, hesitating. “Isn’t that five?”
He immediately was on alert. “Baby, you know it isn’t. Tell me whatever you don’t want to say. If you do, I’ll tell you what I enjoy that I’d rather not say.”
“I’m certain yours is far more interesting. It’s just personal.” She shrugged. “I like to write songs. I have an entire journal filled with them. Just things I need to get out, you know. Nothing that’s going to move the world, but the words are mine, and sometimes I have to go back and just sing them to the empty sky so they’re out there. I can’t always say things I want to tell people, so I write my truth in songs.”
“I think that’s beautiful, Seychelle.”
She was so damn beautiful. Not just her body, but that soul of hers. He liked her. He liked everything about her, especially the fact that she was comfortable talking to him about anything. Part of that was the connection between them, but part of that was just her. She was honest. She just came out and said whatever was on her mind to him. They needed that between them, and that meant he had to give her the same.
“Your skin. I saw your skin and I knew what it would look like with my marks covering you. I couldn’t get that image out of my mind. I enjoy that, Seychelle. Thinking about putting those marks of my possession on you. Thinking about each one of them and where I’d put it. How I’d do it. Wondering how many days I’d have to enjoy seeing them there, knowing you belong to me, and every fucking time I see them, or you see them, we both know it.” He straightened. “And then knowing, the moment they faded, I was going to be able to do it all over again.”
He kept his eyes on her face. Watching her. He was as honest with her as she was with him, and he wanted to see her reaction. Her gaze moved over him, dropping to the front of his jeans and the bulge he didn’t try to hide from her, and then climbed back to his face. A slow little enigmatic smile curved her lips briefly and she rubbed her bottom, but there was excitement in her eyes.
“I can see I’m going to have to get tougher.”
“I’m never going to apologize for who or what I am, Seychelle. I came to terms with it a long time ago. I don’t have to like it, but I’m no longer ashamed. I don’t want to be with a woman who’s ashamed of me either. Or embarrassed by what we do.” He knew her body was excited, but her mind was definitely very much not.
She sat up slowly, pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Putting her chin on top of her knees, she regarded him steadily. “I’m going to be embarrassed and maybe even humiliated until I can think the way you do. You have to give me that and the time I need to adjust to what you need in a relationship, Savage. You can’t push to have everything your way and expect me to think and feel the way you want me to.”
She was right, and he liked that she defended herself. He sat on the edge of the bed and circled the ankle that belonged to him. His thumb slid over the scars there, soothing him. “I don’t want you embarrassed because you choose to give yourself to me, Seychelle. I never want that for you. What you do for me is between us, but there are other women I’ve been with, other women who are aware of what I demand. They talk. Our world can be rough, and the men and women in it can be deliberately cruel. I’m not talking about Torpedo Ink—they’re your club, they’ll have your back—but others will come to the bar and say things. You keep your head up. You’re mine.”
She reached out, shocking him, cupping the side of his face, her expression soft. “I gave you my word, my commitment, and I intend to keep it. I just need a little time to understand your needs. Letting you spank me was very difficult because that’s something I associate with a child’s punishment, although it didn’t feel like something you would do to a child.”
“How did it feel?”
“Erotic,” she admitted, her color rising. “Just the way I always fantasized it would be.”
The blush was sweet, moving up her body, turning her breasts a soft rose, going up her throat to her face. Her nipples drew his attention. He leaned down and pulled the left one into his mouth. She could have been made for him. A gift. Her body was as perfect for his needs as it could be, but it wasn’t even that that got to him anymore, it was her. Seychelle. Who she was.