Unraveled (Mastered 3)

“Goddammit. There is something between us. There has been since the first day you walked into the dojo.”

“I agree. I couldn’t put my finger on it, chalking it up to us both being headstrong and fighting for Ronin’s approval. But the missing piece started to take shape last night, and today it finally clicked into place.”

“What missing piece?”

Just say it straight out. You can deal with the blowback. “That you, Knox Lofgren, are a submissive.”

He laughed. “You are a riot.”

“I’m not kidding.” She waited. And watched for the denial.

Anger blazed in his eyes.

Ah. There it was.

“Bullshit,” he spat out. “You just tossed out an allegation with nothing to back it up besides hope. And there’s no way you can prove it.”

“There’s something between us because the Mistress in me calls to the submissive in you. You want proof of your unexplored tendency? Fine. You consider yourself a neutral party at Twisted. If you were Dominant, you’d identify yourself as such. No designation after what . . . five years in the club? That tells me you’re afraid to admit what you are.”

He didn’t respond; he just maintained his belligerent posture.

“I have to ask why you stayed until the very end of my scene with the sub. Because you wanted to see how I acted when the crowd left? If I was a warm Domme, or an uncaring one?”

“Wrong. I was waiting to confront you.”

Shiori wanted to toy with him. Scrape her fingernail down the V in his gi top to see if he shuddered in pleasure. “I asked about you after our little talk last night. Knox, the man who knows how to bring the pain. I find it interesting that you mainly participate in closed scenes.”

“So?”

“So that tells me that you do what the Dominant wants. Which is a submissive trait. And lastly?” She pinned him with her gaze. “You asked to kiss me, Knox. You knew there was an intimate dynamic between us that had you asking for permission first.”

Those sharp cheekbones bloomed with color.

She retreated. “Those are just my observations. You have every right to call bullshit on it. I imagine you’ll be cursing my name the second the door hits me in the ass. I understand how hard it is when self-discovery doesn’t come from yourself. But I want us to be able to work together. We’ll run into each other at the club too, so it’d be easier if we kept a civil tone to our relationship. Will that be a problem for you?”

He shook his head, but she knew his thoughts were miles away.

She wanted to push, make him talk to her, but she forced herself to walk away. She made it to the door before she heard him call her name.

“Wait. I have a question for you.”

Shiori turned to look at him. “All right.”

“What were you looking for at the club last night?”

“Not a man to crush under my heel. Not a lapdog. Not a slave. Not a whipping boy. I’m looking for a man strong enough to give up control to me when it comes to sex.”

“Not a twenty-four-seven Domme-sub relationship?”

She shook her head. “That doesn’t appeal to me. I want a man who knows that his complete submission to me means he’s under my care. His needs are more important than my own. There’s a connection that ensures the highest level of trust. From both sides. And with that comes the hottest sex you can imagine.”

“And you can’t have that in a normal relationship?”

“I had a so-called normal relationship when I was married. I didn’t deny who I was; I didn’t know who I was. Once I figured that out, I knew why I’d always been unfulfilled.”

Knox said nothing.

Shiori took that as her cue to leave. But she really wished he would’ve asked her to stay.

*   *   *

A submissive.

She thought he was a fucking submissive.

The woman had a screw loose. No doubt about it.

Because of all the ridiculous accusations . . . There wasn’t a submissive thing about him.

He snorted. He wasn’t a simpering girly man with mommy issues.

She was reaching. She’d seen him in the club as a familiar face, a man who’d watched her scene with a sub, so she’d come to a wrong conclusion and projected that preference—her preference for what she wanted him to be—onto him.

So what if he’d asked permission to kiss her. Wasn’t the first time he’d done it in his life. Wouldn’t be the last.

Him. A submissive.

Like he’d ever kneel at anyone’s feet on command.