Dare to Submit (NY Dares 2)

So much remained unsaid. So much would have to stay locked up inside her.

She stared ahead and caught sight of a horse-drawn carriage. She remembered seeing ads for Christmas in New York City on television as a little girl, and she’d always imagined what it would be like to ride in one. She broke free from Decklan’s hold and ran toward the horse, a beautiful animal, shields over its eyes, its operator standing by its side. Behind it, a large covered carriage was attached, waiting for riders.

Decklan caught up with her, pulling her back as she got close to the large animal.

“I’ve always wanted to take a ride in one of these,” she said, feeling every inch the tourist. She didn’t care. She clasped her hands together and glanced up at Decklan. “Let’s take a ride? Please?”

Decklan took in the woman staring up at him, eyes wide and excited, and found himself unable to deny her wish. Which said something, considering he normally wasn’t the kind of man to indulge in frivolous whims or things like horse-drawn carriage rides.

“Okay.”

She clapped her hands together like a little kid, so unlike the seductress he’d originally met, and he liked that he was seeing another side of her. While she vibrated with excitement beside him, he discussed the trip with the driver, paying him for extra time, and soon he and Amanda were together in the far back seat of the carriage. The smile on her face as the driver put them in motion made the whole trip worthwhile.

“And we’re off.” She grinned and shifted next to him. As if he wasn’t well aware of her beside him already. His cock had been at full-staff since she’d shown up at the club.

She leaned forward, taking in Central Park at night. “Look at the building lights in the distance. It’s so beautiful.”

He’d never thought of the city as beautiful before, but with her by his side, he was seeing it that way for the first time.

“I take it they don’t have these in D.C.,” he said, still amused by her reaction to something New Yorkers took for granted. And since he’d grown up here, gone to college here, and worked just outside Manhattan, he considered himself a local. He didn’t understand Lucy’s fascination with L.A. He liked the busyness of Manhattan.

“No carriages in D.C.,” she said. “But even if there were, my parents wouldn’t have let me take one.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged and shifted in the seat. “It’s complicated, but basically my mother wouldn’t consider it ladylike. The horses and the carriage would be too filthy for her.” She wrinkled her nose, indicating what she thought of her mother’s point of view. “She worships perfection.”

“Then she must love having you for a daughter,” he said, the compliment the most genuine he’d ever given.

Her harsh laugh contradicted him. “That would be a no. I was … am … everything she doesn’t want in a child, especially a girl.”

“What the hell?” What she said couldn’t have startled him more.

She let out a long sigh, and he wondered if she’d talk or clam up. On the one hand, he wanted to know everything about her, which made him almost hope she’d deflect. Insight into what made her tick was dangerous. He was relaxed, mellow, his walls down, and he was enjoying the evening. It had become way too much like a date without the degree of control he needed to keep his distance.

Yet instead of pulling away, he slid his hand beneath her thick hair and cupped her neck. She moaned and leaned into him. His cock hardened at the sound coming from deep in her throat.

She responded to his subtle command, and without warning, she spoke. “She thinks I’m too big, too curvy, not delicate or ladylike enough. She says I should eat less and exercise more.”

“Bullshit.”

She flinched at his harsh expletive.

Too damned bad. He’d like to snap her mother’s probably scrawny neck for putting such ridiculous thoughts in her daughter’s head. And her body image issues and the need for dim lighting made sense from that warped perspective. And it was warped.

Her curves were the first thing Decklan had noticed. Gorgeous face second. Brain third and sweet personality, which he was just coming to know, fourth, but it was quickly becoming his favorite part of her.

Damn. None of this was good. But he couldn’t allow her to let those words remain in her psyche.

“I call bullshit,” he told her more clearly, intending to explain just what he thought when he looked at her.

“That’s nice of you, but I’m not finished. She also believes that I should marry a man of her choosing and stay home and raise his babies, not work.”

Jesus. “That’s a helluva lot of expectation heaped on one person.”

“I’m used to it.”

“I doubt that.”