Mastered by Malone (Haven, Texas 6)

ou about pet play. I can do all of that, and will, depending on your limits.”

He wanted to dress her up as a kitten? Okay, she was a little freaked by that, and intrigued. And the freaked part became even more so when she realized how interested she was.

His mouth quirked up into a smile that reached his eyes. Warm, melted chocolate eyes stared down at her. “I can see you’re a little shocked by all of that. Which also means we’re gonna take this slow.”

“How slow?” she asked suspiciously.

“As slow as I say, kitten.”

She guessed kitten was a step up from Calamity Jane.

“But what does what I eat have to do with all of that?”

“Sir.”

“Huh?”

“Remember to address me as Sir. I will give you a few warnings and then I’ll start dishing out discipline to help you remember.”

Okay the warm, chocolate gaze was gone. The look in his eyes was strict. Her body gave a little tremble.

“What I’m saying is that while we could just keep it to play, I don’t think that’s really what you need.”

It wasn’t?

“What you need is someone to curb those tendencies you have to put everyone else first. It’s not a wrong way to be, so long as you know your limits, or you have someone watching out for you who is prepared to step in when you’ve reached those limits and pull you back.”

“I don’t put everyone else first.”

He just raised an eyebrow. “Why did you learn to cook?”

“What?”

“What is it that drew you to cooking for a career? And remember how to address me.”

Right. Yep. Seemed she was failing that lesson big time.

“My aunt didn’t like cooking.”

“And you wanted a way to make her like you.”

“Didn’t work,” she said bitterly. “But Mike and my uncle liked my cooking.”

“And they praised you.”

“Yes.” She added, “Sir,” hastily.

“Nothing wrong with enjoying being praised or with liking to do things for others. You like to cook for my brothers?”

“Yes. I do. Even if they do have terrible table manners. I’m working on that.”

“So you are.” His lips twitched again. Seemed she was amusing tonight. “Brave of you.”

It was.

“Do you actually like cooking?”

She straightened, realizing where this was going. “Yes, I do. I know I might have started in the hopes that my aunt,” might love me, “well, that she might be grateful or find me useful. But I found I love it. I enjoy it.”