You’re mine.
Uptight, organized Senator Finn was charming. Impatient, secret lover Stephen Finn was irresistible. This man? The one who’d just blown her mind, fucked her harder than he’d ever dared, bitten her neck and claimed her for a week of pleasure? This Stephen was a predator that needed careful handling.
He could hurt her in a way the other two never could.
“Angel?” His deep voice rippled like silk along her bare skin.
She burrowed closer into his side, shaking her head. “You might want to choose another pet name. I am many things, Senator Sexy, but I’ve never been an angel. Unless you’re referring to the fallen kind.”
He kissed her temple. “I don’t think you get to choose your own pet name.”
“Of course I do,” she argued sleepily. “And I choose Supreme Goddess. Or Chocolate Princess. Maybe you can call me Spanky, since I have a feeling my behavior will require excessive punishment.”
He chuckled. “How about Brat? That certainly fits.”
“You haven’t seen my brat come out, honey. Not yet.”
He was silent for a long moment, then his arms tightened around her. “I think I need another lesson.”
Already? She still couldn’t feel all of her toes. “Trust me, Stephen, we’re good.”
Her lashes fluttered when she felt him slide down her body, spreading her legs and kneeling between them. “Practice makes perfect.”
Chapter Six
The next morning Tasha was up before dawn. She showered, threw on one of Stephen’s button-down shirts and then rummaged through the pantry until she found something she could bake. He didn’t have that much to choose from in the way of ingredients, but she was nothing if not creative. Soon the aroma of flaxseed and dried cherry muffins filled the sterile kitchen, soothing her while she waited for Stephen to wake up.
She might have worn the senator out.
Her lips tilted at the thought, but as soon as she moved again, she winced. Okay, so maybe it was the other way around. Stephen Finn was a perfectionist at everything he did—why would this be any exception?
He’d asked questions, studied her reactions and never stopped touching her. He’d discovered that she responded best with a firm hand around her neck—that cupping her nape soothed her, but gripping her throat made her his willing slave. Each revelation had made him determined to learn more. And he’d spent the whole night doing just that.
In a way, it was like a first time, which was crazy. They’d been having sex for sixteen years, though this string of stolen moments and desperate caresses that was their relationship was so sporadic that, if she did the math, it would only count as a month for a normal couple. Still, something about last night felt brand new—for both of them. It was as if they were each discovering a new lover. And in a way, she supposed they were.
Stephen was and had always been the best she’d ever had, and she knew he felt the same way about her. There was a reason they’d never completely cut those ties. What they made each other feel was simply too good to let go of.
But even she, the queen of no-strings, buddy-system sex, had to admit that there was something unsatisfying about fifteen minutes in closet heaven or six-hour layovers once every eight to thirteen months. There was only time to pounce, strip and try to work out months of frustration and need in whatever amount of time they had.
Minimal cuddling. No real conversations. Certainly no spanking or restraints.
Tasha stared absently at the timer and leaned her elbows on the counter, resting her chin in her hands. After last night, it seemed like a bum deal. Especially once she’d seen and experienced what Stephen was capable of when he took his time.
She might have created a monster.
Tasha buried her face in her hands and chuckled wryly, knowing she couldn’t take the credit. Books, he’d said—she should demand to see this library of kinky tutorials. No man was that talented without hands-on experience.
Experience he hadn’t gotten with her.
What he does and who he does it with is none of your business. Didn’t you tell him that years ago?
She had told him that, and she’d been so sure she meant it. Commitment was a sticky issue for her, one full of traps and pitfalls. She’d decided from an early age that pinning all your hopes and dreams on one person was the fastest way to unhappiness and heartbreak. At least, for the Rivera women.
Her mother had used the promise of marriage to keep her father close and agreeable, thinking he would abandon her after he got the citizenship he needed. Even after they’d had Tasha, she wouldn’t trust him to stay. Her jealousy and paranoia caused her gentle father constant frustration. She was even jealous of the time he spent with their daughter. When he was sent away she’d blamed him bitterly, believing her fears had finally come to pass. But Tasha had always known whose fault it was.