He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to talk.” She turned and headed for his front door.
He had no idea what had happened between the last time he’d seen her and now, but he intended to find out.
Once inside, she kicked off her shoes and went into his living room. Her silence unnerved him.
He joined her on the couch, taking her hand in his. Yet she didn’t entwine her fingers tightly with his—a sign, he thought, that whatever was on her mind would disappoint him. “All right. You wanted to talk. So talk.”
A rough breath rushed through her lips. “I heard from the girls last night what you did.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about.” He’d wanted to tell Chloe that he’d left Club Sin, not to have her hear it from anyone else. “I see that for some reason this isn’t good news for you.”
She turned her head to him, lifting her chin. “I don’t want to change you.”
“You’re not changing me.”
Her expression was pinched, and she said in a soft voice, “But I am. You’re giving up your old lifestyle for me, and that’s not what I want. All your friends go to this club. I’m stealing you away from them. I don’t like that.”
Before she could get carried away, he shook his head at her. “Yes, I’m leaving the club because I know I don’t want to go there with you, but I’m not giving up my lifestyle. I still have a submissive in my life.”
She paused and frowned. Then she snorted. “Are you implying that I’m submissive?”
The expression on her face made him chuckle. “Perhaps not in everyday life. Sexually? Yes, you are.”
She dropped his hand and folded her arms, giving him a glare he found utterly cute. “You are out of your mind if you believe that.”
One brow arched. “Oh, is that so?”
“Yes. That is so. Which is exactly why this is a problem. I know that’s the type of woman you need, and I’m not that type of woman.”
The hardness in her eyes amused him, and he rather liked knowing he could make her eat her words. “Please wait here a moment.” He rose and went to his bedroom, where he opened a dresser drawer and pulled out two skeins of black rope.
When he returned to her in the living room, he noted she hadn’t moved. If she were a Dominant-type personality she would have, simply because he’d told her not to. “Stand up,” he told her.
She gawked at the rope in his hands, her eyes going wide, before she angled her head up to him. “Pardon?”
“I said, stand up.”
She gulped. “Why?”
He dropped his head to hers, meeting her at eye level. “Just do this for me. I’m trying to help you understand.”
Hesitation crossed her face. He also spotted the arousal there, too. “Fine. But I don’t see how putting that rope on me is going to teach me anything. We need to talk about this. I don’t want to change you, Sawyer.”
He allowed her to vent, but those words rolled right off him. Soon she would understand. Only when she rose did he add, “Take off your clothes.”
Her mouth fell open. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why?”
Amused at her insistence on controlling the moment, he shook his head. “You already know that I want to put this rope on you. I need your skin available to me.”
She tilted her head, regarding him. “But then we’ll talk?”
“Yes, Chloe.” He sighed in frustration. “Then we can talk.” But we won’t need to.