“We did.” The words came out confidently, as if he liked where she’d taken her train of thought.
She nodded, like see, this is a good thing. “Everything we learn about each other changes our relationship, but as long as it’s the truth, it’s okay.”
“I just don’t want to scare you.”
“So what if you scare me? I’m a big girl. I’ll get over it.” Her eyes briefly danced skyward before homing back in on his masked face. “I like learning more about you, and I want you to learn more about me. I want to see where all these changes take us.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“What if you don’t like what you learn? Like I said before, I’m not for the faint of heart, Jenna. Not even when I’m vanilla. I’m an intense person to be around even on my good days.”
He could try to scare her all he wanted, but she wasn’t going anywhere. She was right where she was meant to be, right when she was meant to be there.
“Then we’ll deal with it if and when we have to. But I’m not going to anticipate the worst when I think the best is still yet to come.” Her palms slid lower, to his stomach, then deliberately skimmed back up to his shoulders. “And, for the record, I don’t think I’ll ever find you untouchable.” She smoothed her fingers over his neck and down his collar to prove her point, then teased the buttons of his shirt as she swept her palms down to his waist. “Because I think I’m really going to enjoy touching you in all the ways a woman can touch a man.”
What an understatement, because now that she was with him—really with him—she didn’t think she would ever tire of touching him. His body was warm and hard in all the right ways, the muscles of his torso carved like marble.
Heat flared in his eyes. “So . . . I haven’t scared you away yet?”
“Have you been trying to?”
“No, but I’m a lot to take in.” The silent physically, mentally, and financially came through loud and clear.
Feeling bold, she dragged one palm down to his belt, paused briefly, then went lower, flattening her hand over his semi-erect cock. “I think I can manage.”
His eyes dropped to her mouth, then narrowed as they flicked back up to hers. “Are you topping me from the bottom again, Ms. Spencer.”
“Maybe. What are you going to do about it, Mr. Donovan? Punish me?”
She imagined him arching one brow behind his mask. “I hadn’t planned on it. At least, not tonight. But you are pushing your luck.” He placed his much larger hand over hers, holding it against him as he grew even harder and thicker. “One would think you’re intentionally provoking me so that I will punish you.”
She licked her lips and stepped closer, lowering her eyes to his Adam’s apple. It bobbed up and down as she closed her fingers around his girth and gave him a firm rub through his slacks.
“Maybe I do want to be punished.”
“And you will be . . . in time.”
“What if I don’t want to wait?”
As she began slowly stroking him, his palm pressed more firmly against hers as if he were about to stop her. Then he paused, exhaled heavily, and slowly let go, letting his gaze fall to watch her massage him.
“You’re playing with fire, little girl.”
Her hand slithered lower and cupped his balls. He stiffened and rocked forward, but other than a sharp intake of breath, he didn’t make a sound.
“Maybe I don’t mind the heat.” She leaned into him.
He let her play with him a few seconds more, then pulled her hand away. “You have no idea how hot this fire can get.”
“Then show me.”
His gaze searched hers as if he were contemplating doing just that. “What am I going to do with you?” He pushed his fingers into her carefully styled hair as if he couldn’t care less whether he ruined all her hard work. And maybe that was the point of telling her to wear it down, so that he could grip a fistful anytime he wished.
“Whatever you want.”
His fingers curled against her scalp. “Don’t tease me or I just might.”
“Who said I was teasing?”
He grinned, but it was the sort of self-satisfied grin a man wears when he’s holding a royal flush and has poker-faced his opponent into betting everything while holding only a four of a kind. Mysterious. Sexy. Provocative.
That’s when she noticed how quiet the terrace had become. Looking past his shoulder, she realized they were the only ones left outside.
“Where did everybody go?” she asked.
He blinked out of whatever deeply lascivious thoughts he’d been entertaining and looked behind him, then checked his watch. “They’re probably in the basement.”
“Would that be where your dungeon is?” she asked as he took her hand and led her back inside to the elevator.
He grinned. “Yes.”
“What’s it like?”
“You’ll see.”
As they waited for the elevator, she glanced up at him. “Are you going to let me see your face?”
“Not tonight.”
“Why not?”
His gaze met hers like the strike of a hammer. “Because you disobeyed me. And because you’ve been topping me from the bottom since day one, especially tonight. You have to learn how to behave like a good submissive before you earn the right to see my face.”
Damn her defiance.
The crux of it was that she knew better. And yet she had let her rebellious personality overrule her better judgment, and now he was making her pay the price by withholding the one thing she had hoped for the most as she had prepared for this evening: to see his face.
“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.” Mentally castigating herself, she began to turn away, bowing her head.
He stopped her, catching her chin with his thumb and index finger. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Lower your head like that. Like you’re ashamed.”
“But . . . I thought . . . aren’t submissives supposed to bow their
