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  A blush steals over my cheeks, and it’s not one bred from embarrassment, but from excitement. “Not at all,” I whisper.

  I don’t miss the heat that seems to transfer from me to him. “Duly noted. What about other acts?”

  “Other acts?”

  “Yeah, like oral?”

  “Um, oral?” I feel like a damn parrot, but I’m not quite sure what to say. Oh, Greer and I have done what most people would consider the most intimate of acts, but no way was I gonna do that with him. It never even occurred to me.

  He gives me an impatient look, like I’m being obtuse. “Did you like it when he went down on you? And vice versa?” His voice drips with sex, and he runs his fingertips over my hip and then tightens them around me. I’m pretty sure he just said it that way to shock me.

  “Yeah. No. I understand. But no.”

  His chuckle vibrates against me. “Could you be a little clearer, Denver?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know if I’d like it. I’ve never done it?” My voice rises like I’m asking a question. I groan at my awkward fumbling.

  His eyes narrow with skepticism. “Which one?”

  “Either one.” I furrow my brow. “Or is it neither one?”

  He just stares at me for a moment before his eyes dip to my mouth, and then my lap, and back up again. Blowing out a deep breath, he pierces me again with his gaze. “Are you telling me that, in addition to having had only one sexual partner, you’ve pretty much only had vanilla sex?”

  Thank you kinky romance writers and creators of the ebook! Otherwise, I’d have no freaking clue what he was talking about. “Other than some rough sex, and the other two things I mentioned, my sex life was pretty tame,” I confirm.

  Ransom scrubs both hands over his face before releasing a frustrated breath. “You’re on the opposite end of the spectrum from being a slut, Denver. I can’t believe you walked around calling yourself that, and what’s worse, is that you started believing it too.”

  Throwing my legs over his, I try to remove myself from his lap before I say something stupid. He has no idea what he’s talking about here, and suddenly, I see red.

  His hands come down, a vice on my thighs. “Hey! What’s the matter? Why are you getting upset now?”

  I struggle with him for a second before snapping, “Let me go.” His hands release me immediately, and I jump up to pace. This is what no one gets. What no one will probably ever get, but damn if I don’t want him to understand.

  “Denver, what’s wrong?” He seems almost amused at my behavior. In the couple of months we’ve been seeing each other, I don’t think I’ve ever been truly angry with him.

  “Ransom, the term slut doesn’t just apply to someone who’s had a lot of sex with a lot of people. The sex I had was shallow and unemotional and meaningless. We used other people to camouflage our dark, twisted relationship. We snuck around to make it more exciting and off limits. I wouldn’t even let him kiss me. I used him, and he used me. There was nothing loving or beautiful about how I went about it. Ergo, I am a slut,” I finish with a flourish and a hand on my hip. I’m standing over him now, as if to intimidate him, but he just looks up at me and laughs. And doesn’t stop laughing. Ass.

  Finally, he grabs his cell and taps some buttons. Frowning, I try to move away again, but he grabs my hand and pulls me back in front of him, mumbling about how cute my use of the word ergo is. He clears his throat and reads, “Slut, an immoral woman; a prostitute.” He quirks an eyebrow at me and flashes me his phone with his dictionary app pulled up. “Black and white. That’s the definition.”

  What is it with the men in my life? They’re bound and determined to give me fucking vocabulary lessons every time I turn around. “Black and white, Ransom. Black and fucking white. Have you noticed we tend to live in a disarray of vivid color?” I place my hands on his chest and push him back on the couch, willing him to see it my way. “I behaved immorally where Greer was concerned. I used him to escape my problems, without a care for his feelings. I didn’t have sex with him because I was overwrought with feelings for him, or anything along those lines. He. Was. Convenient. An escape. If you can’t see that, then you can’t see me for who I really am.” His head snaps up with the unspoken threat that lies in my words. If he doesn’t see me for who I am, he can’t be with me, and he knows it.

  He shakes his head and makes a disapproving sound. “For someone who is so fucking smart, you’ve got this all wrong.”

  “Ransom—”

  “No,” he cuts in, trapping my hands on his chest. “Listen up, little fighter. Did you, or did you not, admit to loving Greer?”

  “You know I did.”

  “Did you, or did you not, tell me that after y’all hooked up, you felt ashamed and sorry?”

  “Not enough to make me stop,” I bite out.

  “Did you feel sorry?” he seethes.

  “Yes, of course. I felt awful, but once we put it into motion, it was a vicious cycle that I couldn’t seem to stop, even though I tried.”

  He taps my hands, like case settled, but doesn’t let me go. “Well, that right there proves you have morals and a conscience. You fucked up. Greer fucked up. It doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you flawed and human.” He threads his fingers through mine and pulls me back down on his lap. His tone gentles. “Now, I personally wouldn’t give a shit if you labeled yourself like that, if it didn’t have power over you, and if others didn’t use it that way too, but that’s not the case. Others have used it as a sword to take you down, and you’ve used it as a shield, but the shield got too heavy and came crashing down on your head. Giving it power like that, lets the connotations define you, when they really don’t.”

  Isn’t this the same the speech I’d been giving to Greer? I believed that about him, so why can I not believe it about me? “So you’re saying I’m a good person who did bad things, but I can’t let those things define me, since I’ve recognized them and refuse to do them anymore?”

  He leans in kisses me on the ear, whispering, “Exactly, baby. Repeat after me.” I nod. “I am not a slut.”

  A garbled breath escapes my lungs, and tears pool in my eyes. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thoughts that bombard me like a meteor shower.

  He pulls back and cradles my head in his strong, warm hands. “I know you’re scared. It’s your last defense mechanism, but you’re safe now. You’ve learned how to fight for yourself. You’ve torn down all those walls. Your insecurities aren’t going to rule you anymore. You’re too strong for that.” His eyes fly down to my tightly pressed lips. “Breathe, Denver.” I gasp. “Shit. You were turning blue. Damn, you’re stubborn,” he laughs. “Now. Say. It,” his staccato is gentle, but no less demanding.

  “I—” my voice cracks. He runs his thumbs over my cheekbones, nodding his approval. Clearing my voice, I try again, “I am not a slut.” It’s raw and ragged, but it’s out there.

  “Again.”

  I roll my eyes playfully, a couple of my tears escaping. He wipes them away. Of course, once isn’t good enough for him. I push some strength into my words this time, which forces my back straighter. “I am not a slut,” I assert.

  “Good girl,” Ransom muses. “You most certainly are not. You aren’t, and you weren’t.”

  “You’re really good at this,” I praise.

  His answering kiss is gentle. It sweeps over me, lulling my body into a warm, beautiful haze, yet my mind feels clear for the first time in a long time. It’s a heady combination. Ransom’s tongue darts out to slip across the seam of my lips, and I open to him, riding the rush of his power over my mind, my body, and my soul. Not too long ago, allowing someone any power over any aspect of me would have terrified me, but not with Ransom. His power builds mine, makes me feel stronger and more myself than ever before. I push him back gently and turn on his lap a little.

  When he opens his eyes, gone is the confusion and frustration and need to make me see things clearly, but I have questions of m
y own.

  “My turn,” I whisper playfully. “I know what your buttons are. I know what turns you on and turns you into the man who wants to dominate me, but what I don’t know, is how you got so good at this. The other day, with the commands?” He nods, his vision once again focusing in on me. “If you’ve never had a submissive before, how come you’re so good at it? And don’t tell me you’re a natural.” I can see that being his cocky answer.

  Ransom relaxes back into the couch. Grinning, he says, “I told you that two people know about my preferences. Well, one of those is my mentor, Lucas.”

  I can’t hide my shock. “You have a BDSM mentor?”

  He laughs. “Don’t be so shocked. It’s not anything to enter into lightly, so yes, I have a mentor. We’ve never met in person, but he’s been really good to me. Showing me the ropes, so to speak.” A laugh bubbles out of me. “Naughty girl,” he chastises mockingly. “You know what I mean.”

  “How does one go about procuring a mentor like that? I mean, did you put an ad up on craigslist or something?”

  “Not quite. You know me and my research. When I realized I had different … needs, I hit up the Internet. You wouldn’t believe the information that is out there. Some of it is scary, some of it is bullshit, but there are also legitimate places where you can find what appeals to you. You know, everyone is different. I happened upon a blog that Lucas’s submissive runs, and got involved in some discussions with her. She had Lucas contact me, and he’s been helping me ever since.”

  “Wow,” I say, not-so elegantly, because, well … wow. Who knew? “Does he know about me?”

  “He does. He doesn’t know who you are, or who I am, for that matter. But he knows the pertinent information about our relationship and where I’d like to see it go, which I’ve shared with you. Anyway, he’s really smart. He has me keep a journal of what being dominate means to me, and has me analyze those thoughts.” He waves a hand around. “It’s all very reflective.”

  “Huh,” is my only response.

  Ransom’s hand lightly cups my jaw. “Are you worried about it?”

  “Oh, no,” I stammer quickly. “It’s just … a lot to take in. I’m having fun.”

  “Speaking of having fun,” he taunts, running his hand back over my braid. Tilting my head, he feasts on my lips for a minute, and chases all other thoughts from my head. “You in the mood to play?” he questions against my lips, his eyes searching mine.

  “Uh, huh,” I breathe.

  “Go get ready,” he says, tapping his hand against my hip.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ransom

  JUST STANDING HERE imagining her waiting for me has my pulse thundering. I can’t go to her yet, though. My mind is playing havoc over making her say again, out loud, how she loves Greer. I may not be a jealous person by nature, but damn if that doesn’t get my defenses up. I don’t hold it against her, but I’d be a fool to pretend it doesn’t rattle me. I’ve loved someone else, and for me, once I love, I don’t stop. I don’t think anyone truly does. Only thing is, while I may still hold onto a certain kind of love, I’m certainly not in love with that person anymore. Nope, my heart is completely and utterly owned by one hot, little barrel racer. I remember how bad it hurt when Victoria upended my world by admitting she cheated on me while she was at college. She knew I’d never get past it and be able to be with her, but I respect the hell out of her for telling me, knowing she’d lose me. I thought I’d never feel pain like that again, but just the thought of loving Denver like I do, and losing her to Greer, nearly brings me to my knees.

  Who’s to say what happened between them was enough to break a bond that was forged so deep and for so long? Sometimes I see the longing for him in her eyes, and while I understand it, it still hurts like hell. All I can hope for is that she feels strongly enough for me, to want me over him. Well, I always did like a challenge, and I know I’m up for it. I’m up for anything with her.

  Running a hand over the stubble on my chin, I try to bring myself back from those dark thoughts and focus on the here and now. I know she wants to be with me. I know her feelings for me run deep. I know she’s getting confident in what we’re building. And more than anything, I know she responds to me, so that’s what I’ll focus on tonight.

  I make my way through the apartment, locking up and discarding our half-empty beers. I stifle a laugh at her reaction to my offering it to her. She’s so damn cute, and she’s trying so damn hard. I reiterated the difference between having a beer or two, and drinking yourself into oblivion. If she can respect that line, then she’s good. If not, then she needs to avoid it. Simple as that.

  I enter my dimly lit room and barely glance at the top of her head as I move toward my closet. I like our R & B themed music, so I leave it. Taking out what I need from my hiding spot, I toss the items on the nightstand, knowing the sound, and casual movement, will have her interest piqued. I fold down the covers on the bed, taking a little extra time to build her anticipation. As much as she claims to loathe it, I know it turns her on.

  Without further ado, I close the distance between us and cup her chin with my hand. Bringing her eyes to mine, I let my gaze do the talking. I know she sees how much I want her, how beautiful I know she is, and how much I respect her. I only hope she can see how much I love her.

  Bending down, I release her chin and clasp her hand in mine, helping her stand. “I am in awe of you,” I muse when she’s standing before me. Knowing Denver won’t speak unless I ask her a question, works in my favor right now. She has to accept my praise without making a self-depreciating joke or stating her outright denial, so I take advantage of it. “The very first thing that appealed to me when I first noticed you back in Texas was your strength, and you were barely eighteen years old. You’ve taken a hit or ten since then, and it may have left you bruised and battered, but you’ve held on to who you are.” My voice seems to fade a little, so I pause before infusing it with all that I feel for her. “You are amazing, little fighter. I want to make you feel as amazing as you are. You up for that?”

  Denver licks her lips and gives me a playful smile. “You bet, John.”

  I crook an eyebrow at her. “Sorry?”

  “Oh, um. Yes, John,” she corrects.

  “Feeling sassy tonight, Denver?” I allow her to get away with shaking her head no, even though the look she gives me is anything but repentant. I’m not in the mood to punish her tonight. I want to worship her.

  Gripping her braid in my fist, I angle her head and kiss the smirk off her mouth until she’s rubbing her body against mine.

  Leading her to the bed, I ease down and pull her to kneel between my legs. I don’t miss her appreciative gaze as it sweeps over my chest and down to my crotch and back up again. Even though my body is scarred and tattered, she makes me feel like it’s the best thing she’s ever seen. I resist the urge to puff up my chest with pride. When something as beautiful as she is admires you, you can’t help but bask in it. I find myself asking her the very question I asked her all those months ago during our first ever conversation. “So, do I measure up?” I ask casually.

  Honey-warmed eyes meet mine. “You know you do. You know I think you’re beautiful.”

  “Show me how beautiful you think I am,” I tell her. I had other plans, but she makes me want to improvise. A little spark seems to make her eyes even brighter. I bring her with me as I scoot back to rest against the headboard. Her lips find mine for a teasing kiss, before she works her way down my throat. Her kisses act as a soothing balm over my aching collarbone, and I can’t fight the groan that escapes me. Matter of fact, I don’t even try. I want her to know how good she makes me feel. Her hands come up to massage my biceps as she works me over with her mouth. No one has ever touched me the way she does—reverent and loving. When her tongue darts out to sweep over my pecs, my hands fist in her hair. She groans when I direct her movements over me, biting and teasing her way along. She’s worked her way low enough so that her breasts are moving aga
inst the fabric of my jeans, making her moan in appreciation of the friction.

  When I feel the urge to throw her on her back and rut against her like an animal, I grasp her head and force her mouth back up to mine. I kiss her until we need oxygen again, and then I kiss her one more time for good measure. Spinning her around, I fit her between my legs and lean her back against me. Trailing my fingertips over her arms, I lavish her neck with gentle, teasing kisses. I suck against the sensitive skin behind her ear until she’s rubbing her legs together. Oh, yeah. She’s ready.

  I slide a hand over the nightstand and bring back her blindfold. “Do you like it when you can’t see what’s coming? When you don’t know what to anticipate, but you’re anticipating all the same?”

  “Yes, John,” she barely croaks.

  “Mmm … me too. I love how much you trust me to take care of you.” I slip it over her eyes and angle her head back to rest against my shoulder. I slide the other items from the stand and pull them onto my hands. I move the hand now covered in soft, downy material over her breast and am rewarded with a gentle moan. Fitting her breast in my hand, I run my index finger over her nipple until it forms a tight little bud.

  “You like that?”

  “Mmm, hmm,” she moans.

  I tease it and torture it for a few minutes, treating myself to all the sexy sounds of Denver’s pleasure. My lips never leave her neck so that we remain fused together. Dropping that hand, I bring my leather-clad hand over the other breast, to give it the same attention. When she feels the roughened, well-used glove on her nipple, she nearly shoots out of my arms.

  “Oh my God. Oh! What … is that what I think it is?” I grin against her neck and bite at it a little. “It is. It’s your riding glove. Oh my God,” she groans.

  Pinching and teasing, I work it over good before bringing the soft-gloved hand up again to work them in tandem. It’s not long before she’s bucking and mewling against the mattress.