Hottest Mess (SIN 2)

"I'm serious, Dallas. What else do you need?"

He drew in a breath. "I need her out of my head."

"Then do it. You couldn't fight back then--but now you can. Overpower her. End her."

"Why do you think I founded Deliverance?"

"Not like that. Right here. Right now."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Go back. In your head. In your memories. Let me be her. Fight me. Fight me, then fuck me. She took control? Take it back."

His blood ran cold, and he remembered the times that Adele had suggested Dallas pretend that she was Jane. That idea had horrified him. So did this one, but for a completely different reason. "Do you have any idea what you're asking? What kind of door you could be opening?"

"Yeah," she said. "I do."

"You're basically saying that I need to rape her. I need to act out my fantasy, overpower the bitch, and hurt her the way she hurt me."

"Pretty damn politically incorrect, I know. But that about sums it up."

"With you playing the role of the Woman. No. No fucking way." He couldn't. It was a screwed up idea. But that wasn't what scared him. No, what terrified him was how much he wanted to do exactly that. Not because she was a standin for the Woman, but because he wanted to claim Jane fully and completely. He wanted to make her his. He wanted to be that damned Neanderthal and drag her by the hair around after him.

Because how else could he be certain she wouldn't pack up and leave the moment she finally got through her thick head just how screwed up he was?

He heard her voice in his head telling him that she'd give him whatever he needed. But how did he know what he needed until he went there? Even in The Cellar, he hung back. Didn't matter that it was a full-on kink club and he could indulge any whim there. He still pulled it in, because those weren't the women he wanted on their knees. That honor belonged to Jane, and until he had her--until he took her--how would he know how far he would go? How much he would crave?

And the thought of going too far--of breaking her limits, of scaring her, of having her look at him like he was broken beyond repair--he couldn't risk that.

He had to hold back.

Had to fight for normal.

Had to draw a line in the sand and not cross it.

Everything they'd done had brought them together.

But everything they couldn't--that he wouldn't--do would keep them that way. Crossing the line just might rip them apart.

&nbs

p; He needed time to think. To regroup. This was too much too fast, and he was reeling.

He pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed, fighting a building headache. And then, regretfully, he raised his eyes to hers. "Anything I need, right?"

"Of course."

"All right." He swallowed, hating what he was about to say, but knowing that he needed to say it. That he needed it. For a little while, at least, he needed it.

He drew a breath, then said, "I need you to go."

The hurt that cut across her face was like a physical punch to the gut. "Dallas, no. I didn't mean--I didn't want--" She sucked in air. "I pushed too hard. I should never have suggested--"

"No. We said no secrets, right?" God, he was a hypocrite. He was keeping some damn juicy secrets. But that secret was about Colin. That secret was to protect her. But this? This, he had to tell her.

"No," he said again, forcing the word out. "What you said makes sense. I just don't--"

"Want to try it," she put in. "I get that. But--"