Submitting in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 3)

“Your cane is probably involved,” I mutter.

“It could be. Sessions with the cane take a while, though. Not sure it would be a good place to start your journey.”

“I seem to recall you luring me over here with promises of conversation, not trips to your sex room.”

“What, we can’t do both?” he asks easily.

I glance hopefully at his dresser. “Do you have a sleep shirt you need to put on, or…?”

Rafe smirks, dropping his belt. “No. Why? Does my bare chest offend you?”

“Any part of your naked body offends decent-minded people everywhere,” I inform him. “I don’t know if you know this about yourself, but you’re incredibly attractive.”

He plays along. “I am? I can’t believe no one’s ever told me.”

I nod solemnly. “They probably didn’t want you to get a big head.”

“Why don’t you give up that square foot of prime real estate and come on over here. I’d be happy to let you feel how big my head is.”

I cover my face with my hands and mutter, “You’re terrible.”

“I did touch you, it’s only fair I offer to return the favor,” he says.

Dropping my hands, I look up at him and lift my eyebrows severely. “Conversation,” I say, elongating each syllable. “That is all I am here for.”

“I have a proposition,” he says, striding across the room and coming to me, since I won’t come to him. I didn’t know what to wear for Christmas Eve, so I chose a pair of snug jeans, a white dressy blouse, and a grassy green cardigan over it. Rafe grabs the open ends of my cardigan and pushes them down past my shoulders, sliding the material down my arms.

“I can probably save you some breath and just say no now,” I offer.

Rafe ignores me, removing the cardigan from one arm, grabbing my gingerbread man purse, and dragging the sweater off my other arm. “What if we both took off all our clothes and climbed in bed, and we just touched each other and talked? No sex, nothing scary, just a little personal exploration.”

As I’m sure he expects, I am already shaking my head no.

“Why?” he asks.

“I don’t want to have this conversation every time we’re alone together,” I tell him.

“Then start answering differently,” he suggests, running his hands down the outside of my arms.

“Tell me what I went to school for,” I reply.

Rafe frowns, like this request throws him. “What?”

“College. What did I study? I know a lot about you, but you don’t know much about me, do you?” My heart pounds in my chest as I speak, because I probably shouldn’t dare him to look. I don’t know how deep he looks into people, I don’t know how he would interpret anything he might find. My instinct is still that even if he doubted me, after all these years of faithful service, he wouldn’t hurt me. He would give me the benefit of the doubt. It’s not a conversation I want to have, though. So many conversations I don’t want to have.

Why yes, Rafe, I do have intimate, incriminating knowledge about you and your entire criminal enterprise stored away in my mind like family photos in an album, and the unusual ability to relive them in vivid detail, at will.

Why yes, Rafe, I did double major in sociology and criminal justice, and then—upon finding out you’re more likely to be accepted into the FBI if you go to law school—go to law school.

Why yes, Rafe, I did pass the bar a year ago and remain toiling away as a waitress, serving steaks to rich locals and tourists so I could stay close to you.

Why yes, Rafe, I could single-handedly topple your entire family and lock you up for the rest of your life if I felt like it.

Why yes, Rafe, before you punched my cheating boyfriend in the face and changed the course of both our destinies, that was my plan.

Now? Well, now I’m undecided. For now, my life is paused, and I have no idea when or why I will unpause it. I have no idea what my future holds. All I do know is that no good can come from a sexual relationship with this man, because while I adore him, while I would do anything for him, I know that connection is untested. I know our relationship only lasts because of the distance he usually keeps from me. I know he got a free pass into my good graces completely by accident, and I don’t want to invite anything that might change that.

I am comfortable rooted to this spot. I am comfortable on pause and in limbo. I am so comfortable, and I want to stay where I am, not venture into terrifying new territories.