Dare to Submit (NY Dares 2)

“Well, I don’t know how to have one! And you knew that.”

Her words stopped Decklan in his self-righteous tracks. His eyes narrowed as they looked at her, still glacial, but he’d flinched, letting her know she’d hit a target herself.

“Good point,” he finally said.

“What?”

He stalked toward her. Not stepped. Stalked. “I said, good point. You don’t know the first thing about having a real relationship.” He stood so close his body heat radiated into her, arousing her as much as the argument had.

Yep, fighting with him turned her on. She’d have to examine that another time.

“But you do understand another kind of relationship, the only kind you let yourself have for years, and you violated those rules.”

She blinked at the strong, commanding tone in his voice. “I

hadn’t thought of it that way.” But if they’d been in the club and she’d been caught lying… “Yes, I understand.”

His eyes darkened to a stormy hue. “So you’ve earned a punishment.”

Normally those words would excite her but not now. Not when he was clearly still unhappy with her. He’d never been disappointed in her before, and she didn’t like the feeling. It reminded her too much of the disappointment she’d been to her mother, and she wanted to withdraw into herself. But she refused to give in to the impulse. She had to stand her ground, accept responsibility, and deal with the fallout of her actions.

But she didn’t like not knowing where she stood with him. The gulf between them was huge, and she didn’t know how to breach it. “Decklan, I’m sorry.”

“Good to know. So let’s get this over with.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Clothes off.”

Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would explode. She wanted him but not this way. She didn’t want a club relationship with him; she wanted something real. Like what they’d been sharing before he found out about her so-called engagement. She wanted any punishment to be play and not because she’d let him down. But she had to earn her way back into his good graces.

Looking at his tightly drawn expression, she realized he was hurt. He needed this outlet. And she was willing to give it to him. But more than that, she wanted to learn from this. To be in this thing and fully committed. The problem with that was, she really didn’t know what he wanted from her beyond making his point now.

She shrugged off her jacket, folded it and placed it on the couch, then kicked off her heels and set them out of the way.

He watched in stony silence. It was killing her. Her hands shook, but she continued to do as he’d demanded. She wriggled out of her skirt. Folded and set it on top of the jacket. Her camisole came next, and then she was standing in front of him in nothing but the tiny scrap of pale yellow lace she’d picked out because it and the bra matched her outfit.

If she wanted to prove to him that she was sorry, that she wanted more than this, she had to get past the walls he’d erected. Because she wasn’t the only one who’d risked a part of herself by getting in deeper than a one-night stand. He didn’t do relationships either, but he’d committed himself to more. With her. And she’d let him down.

She clasped her hands in front of her and waited for more instruction as he stared at her dispassionately, the only indication he felt something the subtle clenching of his jaw.

Standing here so exposed and getting no reaction was worse than the first time she’d gotten naked for him. At least then he’d looked at her with yearning and desire. With warmth. He’d made her forget her struggles with her body image, which was no small feat. She’d thought she was at her most vulnerable then.

She’d been so wrong. This, now, stripped her bare inside and out.

Decklan freely admitted he’d wanted to teach Amanda a lesson. He wanted her to feel his lack of warmth and affection, and understand all she’d risked by keeping something so important a secret. He also wanted an outlet for the anger that he’d built up since seeing her on that television screen and having his relationship dissected by his family. In front of them, he’d tried to act unaffected and logical, but as hours had passed, his hurt and sense of betrayal had grown. By the time she’d walked into his apartment, he’d been itching for the fight he knew was coming.

It had taken all his self-control to watch her strip for him and not touch her creamy skin. To not visibly react to seeing her reveal inch after inch of the body he adored. Her breasts were full and ripe, spilling over her bra. Her barely there panties teased him with the feminine secrets and heat hidden beneath. He wanted nothing more than to sink into her and forget that she’d kept such a big secret. That she hadn’t trusted him enough to let him in. That for a few hours, he’d actually wondered if he could possibly lose her. Or if he’d never really had her at all.

He’d taken a leap by letting her in, trusting her with his heart, whether he’d verbalized it or not. He didn’t do relationships either, but he’d committed himself to her. And in one minute, he’d had the illusion of happiness ripped away.

He’d experienced that once before and promised himself never again. So, yes, he had a lot of anger stored and a point to make.

Clothes removed, she clasped her hands in front of her and waited for his approval. He wasn’t ready to give it.

He stared at her deliberately cold, hoping the pounding of his heart and the raw need he really felt for her didn’t show. “That’s not following directions. Is it? I said clothes off. All of them.”

She gave him a small nod and released the back clasp of her bra, turned, and added it to the pile. His hand itched to run along her spine, to bend her to his command. To come inside her.

She rose and slid her panties off next, placing them on the top of the stack. Then, she drew her shoulders back and turned to face him.

Just as a fat tear rolled down her cheek.