Six Signs of Submission (Desire Island 6)

He regarded her for a long moment, his eyes roving with sexy, lazy insolence over her body, lingering on her breasts before slowly moving back up to her face. “Come on, Lainey,” he urged in a low, sexy voice that sent tingles over her senses. “Why do you need to say no?”

He took a step toward her. The outline of his cock pressed like a thick iron rod against his shorts. Lainey had a sudden perverse desire to drop to her knees in front of him. She wanted to worship that cock—taking it lovingly into her mouth as she stroked his balls. Disconcerted by her nearly overwhelming desire, she took yet another step back.

He stayed where he was, but the yearning in his face seemed to match what she was feeling. He held out his hands in an entreating gesture. “Please, Lainey. Don’t let fear dictate your actions. We’re both adults. Something is happening between us. Something special. I’m more convinced than ever that you’re a natural sub. If you’ll let me—”

“No,” she interrupted, frustrated not because he was pressing her, but because she desperately wanted to go with him, despite her better judgment. “Why can’t men get it through their heads that no means no?”

A flash of hurt moved over his face. This time it was he who took a step back, his arms falling to his sides.

Instantly, a rush of remorse moved through her. Fuck—why was she always so prickly with guys? Especially this guy, who was the most exciting person she’d met in years? Or no—make that ever.

She moved toward him, wrapping her arms around him in silent apology. He stood stiffly for a moment, but then his arms, too, came around her, pulling her close against his chest.

“This is my fault,” he said softly. “I’m rushing you. I get it that you’re processing a lot right now. I get it that you’re scared.”

She pulled away. “Stop saying that. I’m not scared,” she snapped.

Liar, a small voice inside her head challenged, but she ignored it.

More gently, she added, “I’m just…careful. In my experience, when you leap right into bed, it can totally mess things up. I’m not entirely sure why that is, but I think it’s because guys are hardwired to make their conquest and move on to the next female, due to their pre-programmed DNA need to procreate as much as possible.”

A startled expression moved over Cooper’s face. Then he burst out laughing, shaking his head. “You are a piece of work, Lainey Miller. Not to mention a sexist.”

Lainey’s face heated. Why was she acting like such a jerk? But she managed a smile as she admitted, “Okay. Yeah, you’re right. That was a sexist thing to say.”

He shrugged, still smiling. “Okay. I accept that no means no—for now. But I have a suggestion. Why don’t you at least stay at the resort tonight? That way we can reconnect first thing in the morning and carry on where we left off. I only have a few more days here. That’s not much time to convince you of your hardwired, pre-programmed need to submit,” he added with an impish grin.

Now it was Lainey’s turn to laugh, and she did. “Where would I stay?”

“There’s a pull-out couch in my room. I’ll take that and you can sleep in the bed.”

Lainey shook her head. She knew herself too well. If he was anywhere in the vicinity, she’d end up climbing in beside him, and that would be that. “No, I don’t think so.”

Then she had an idea. “But maybe Abbie can pull a string or two, seeing as she’s partners with one of the owners. Maybe there’s a spare room I could use for the night.”

“Okay. That works, I guess,” he said, his tone reluctant but a smile still on his lips. “Let’s see if we can track her down.”

Lainey grabbed her travel duffel and slung it over her shoulder. “Thanks, Cooper,” she said as they left the aerobics room. “I appreciate your understanding that it’s important for us to take a step back right now.”

“Got it,” he replied with a boyish grin. “As long as you promise that tomorrow, we’ll take two steps forward.”

Chapter 6

Lainey opened her eyes to bright, lemony light pouring in from the sliding glass door that faced the beach. She sat up and stretched as she glanced around the small but very comfortable room. Her eyes were drawn to the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner.

Imagine signing on as a slave trainee, abdicating your self-will and freedom, agreeing to serve and submit to every Master and Mistress on the island. She tried to visualize herself moving about the resort stark naked save for a black leather slave collar, eyes downcast, silent and obedient. She pictured herself kneeling at her trainer’s feet, head bowed, waiting for permission to speak, to move, to obey whatever dictate or whim he might have.