“You’re the first girl that I’ve ever been loyal to.”
“We only just got together.”
“I haven’t been with anyone for a few months.”
What?
My heart flips . . . he’s doing it without me asking.
It’s all falling into place.
He shrugs. “I couldn’t . . . and I . . . I don’t want to screw this up.”
I smile over at my beautiful man. “You won’t.” I kiss him again.
“How do you know?” he asks.
“Because as long as we’re communicating openly, you can’t screw things up.”
He stares at me.
“Running away is how you screw things up.”
“I’m sorry, I was just so . . . and . . .” His eyes hold mine; he’s lost for words.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“If things get too heavy and you feel yourself freaking out or being uncomfortable, just say to me, ‘I’m going to need a minute.’”
He frowns.
“And then I’ll know what’s going on, and I’ll step back for a while to let you adjust.”
“I don’t want you to have to tiptoe around me,” he replies.
“I won’t be. Asking for some space is completely healthy in a relationship. You need to learn to trust us.”
He nods, seemingly deep in thought.
“You’re lucky that I know what a big baby you are,” I reply as I sip my drink.
His mouth falls open in fake horror, and I want to lighten the mood.
“And maybe you just need a good punishing. I’ll smack you tonight.”
“What does that mean?”
“There’s a few things you don’t know about me too,” I reply as I try to keep a straight face.
“Such as.”
“Christopher.” I take his hand in mine, acting serious. “I’m a dominant, and I want to tie you up and whip you with a belt and fuck you up the ass with a strap-on dildo.”
He snorts margarita up his nose and chokes. “What the fuck?” He coughs.
“And . . . I want you to wear anal beads,” I continue. “I bought you some. I know they’re big, but this is the size I want you to be stretched to.”
His horrified eyes hold mine.
“I have them in my handbag. I’ll put them in,” I reply seriously as I keep playing along. “We can go into the bathroom and do it now if you want. You just have to bend over and touch your toes. I’ve got some lube, and it will only be uncomfortable for a moment, but you will learn to love it . . . for me.”
“Absolutely fucking not.” He slams his drink down onto the counter in an outrage. “That is not happening. Hayden, get that shit out of your head right fucking now,” he demands.
I burst out laughing, unable to continue the ruse any longer. His eyes widen as he realizes I was pulling his leg. “Are you serious?” he gasps. “I just had a fucking heart attack.”
I giggle.
“Don’t,” he cries. “I thought I was dating Jack the fucking Ripper or some shit.”
I laugh hard and so does he. Relieved, he grabs the back of my head and drags me in and kisses me. “The only person who is getting fucked up the ass around here is you,” he murmurs against my lips.