Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)

Luke doesn’t say a word. I just hear him swallow as he drinks his beer.

I write down Domination—both ways? Because why not.

“Ever done that one?” I ask. I look up.

My breath hitches. I find before me a man transformed. He’s glaring at me from across the table—glaring, wickedness and war in those blue eyes—nostrils flaring as he breathes in short, uneven spurts.

He’s got both hands glued to the table. Like he’s trying very hard not to reach for something.

Someone.

Me.

Like my list is the biggest turn on ever, and not some weird, lame thing that some weird, lame chick wants to try.

He’s actually into it. Into me.

Cue more overwhelming feelings. I was always so scared that guys would think less of me for just having this list. That I’d disappoint them somehow. Never mind what they’d think about what’s on it. These line items—they’re a bit taboo, sure, but they’re not especially racy or original or unique. I thought it would put off someone more straight-laced. Someone like Nick. Hell, it did put off Nick. Same as it would’ve bored someone more experienced. Like Luke.

But Luke is clearly not bored.

“Yes,” he says. The word lands like a fist, knocking the wind out of me. “That’s a particular favorite of mine.”

“Which way? Do you like to be dominated, or do you like to dominate?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You’ll have to wait to find that out, too.”

I stare at him.

“You’re killing me,” I say.

Luke scoffs. “You got no idea the kinda murder you’re puttin’ on me right now.”

I blink. Breathe. Glance down at the paper in front of me.

“Last one,” I say, willing the pencil to move. “Role play.”

He scoffs again. I look up to see him fisting his hair in his hand as his chest heaves in and out.

“Jesus Christ,” he growls.

“What?”

The look in his eyes—it’s savage and soft now. Like he’s in serious distress. The same achy hurt his acceptance and enthusiasm is making me feel.

“You got one hell of a list right there, honey.”

The heat in my blood spikes at the endearment.

“Too much?” I breathe. “Not enough?”

His gaze is steady on mine. “Just right.”

I drop the pencil as something shifts inside me. Tectonic plates colliding. Feelings exploding. Blood pumping hot and red inside tight skin.

He’s too damn good at this. Making me feel wanted and sexy and safe.

Which conversely makes me feel very, very afraid.

“Luke,” I say. A warning. Not daring to look up.

From the corner of my eye, I see him lift his hand off the table. It edges toward mine for a second before it goes still. He drops it, his fingers curling into a fist.

I imagine my hair in that fist. Luke would give it a quick, hard tug. Tell me not to make a sound as the fingers of his other hand slipped between my legs.

“I’m not apologizing for wanting you the way I do,” he says.

That makes me look up. “I don’t want you to apologize. I just want you to know that it scares me a little.”

“It shouldn’t.” He looks me squarely in the eye. “But I understand. I know where you’re at. Just keep talking to me, okay?”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Communication is key here. So let’s do a little lightning round of questions before we give your list a go.”

I feel a fresh stab of excitement-nervousness. We’re here. We’re gonna do this.

I am going to see Luke Rodgers naked. Finally.

I am going to be who I am in bed. Finally.

I lean back in my chair, digging my hands between my crossed thighs. If I don’t, I’ll be reaching across the table and grabbing this Jude Law lumberjack by the collar.

“Anything you need,” I say. “Tell me.”

“Kissing okay?”

My gaze darts to his lips. They’re Tom Hardy full. Beard making them look even fuller and more pink. A blush of sensation prickles through my own lips at the idea of kissing his. Of his lips kissing me between my legs, beard scraping the insides of my thighs raw.

“I like kissing,” I say.

“Good. What about protection? I got condoms and don’t mind using ’em. But just so you know, I get tested regularly. Last time was a month back. Clean bill of health. Haven’t been with anyone since.”

My pussy is positively singing right now. Lust clouds my thoughts, my body taking over. I don’t know how much longer I can make it without mauling this man.

“I got tested recently, too. I’m clean. And I’m on the pill.”

Luke nods. “We need a safe word. A lot of this stuff is new territory for the both of us. And with the domination thing—it’s important we be able to pull the rip cord if we need to. Any ideas?”

I’m blinking, hard. I’ve never had to have a safe word before. The idea is bewildering. And hot.

“What about watermelon?” I ask with a grin. “Gwen was saying your melons really have some size on them.”