“Christ, Allie. I can’t accept that.” He looked like he was fuming inside, color high on his chiseled cheekbones.

“Do you think there’s something intrinsically wrong with kink? Do you?” she demanded.

“No, of course not.”

“Then why is there something wrong about the combination of kink and me? I’m not that sweet teenager anymore. I’m not delicate. Haven’t I shown you that? What do I have to do to get past your relentless inflexibility, Mick? I would have thought you’d outgrown it by now.”

“I have. Some. I guess we’ve both changed a lot since high school. I just need some time to absorb it.”

“We have changed. And you need to learn to see me for who I am now.”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and some of her anger dissolved under that small gesture.

“And you need to see me for who I am now, too,” he said. “You were so driven to play with me. You started to ask about us starting over. But Allie, do we even know each other anymore?”

He had a point. Was it Mick as he was now that she was in love with, or some image she’d carried in her head all these years? The idea made her stomach go tight.

“Some, yes,” she said, trying to figure it out even as she spoke. “I believe some parts of us never change. I know you’re still loyal to a fault. That you love your family. That you can still be grumpy as hell.”

A shadow of a grin quirked his mouth. “Yeah, you’re right on all three counts. I’m also more stubborn, maybe. More set in my ways. I’m sure I’ve developed a few more character defects over the years.”

“Probably,” she said.

“I should spank you for that.”

She batted her lashes. “Yes, please.”

“You are one bratty sub.”

She smiled. “Yes, I am.”

“What am I going to do with you, Allie girl?” he asked, his gaze narrowing. But his features had relaxed. So had his hold on her waist.

She laid a hand on his chest over the silver cross he never took off, felt the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her palm. This was still Mick, wasn’t it? “How about getting to know me all over again? Letting me get to know you?”

“You make way too much sense for a woman who was deep in subspace only a half hour ago.”

“Then can we?”

His tone dropped until she had to strain to hear him. “When you look at me like that, I can’t refuse you.”

“Then kiss me, Mick. Please.”

He stared at her, that intense gaze seeming to look right through her. Then he bent his head and brushed her lips with his. So soft, at first, then he did it again, his hand coming up to hold her cheek, his thumb slipping under her chin to hold her still. To take control.

He pressed his lips to hers hard, making her moan. Pleasure and heat spiraled in her body, and her heart raced. His arm around her waist pulled her in tighter, the blanket falling away as he crushed her to his chest until the buttons on his shirt dug into her bare breasts, until they were crushed against the hard wall of his chest. Until there was no doubt in her mind that he was claiming her as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

Oh, it was good—his lips pressed to hers, his sweet tongue searching, twining, demanding. She gave him everything he asked for, with her mouth, with her pliant body, with the surrender she felt in every muscle and bone and cell. Desire surged, expanded until she was wet and wanting.

He pulled back and studied her face closely. Her heart was beating wildly.

“Allie?”

“Mick, I need you. Need you. Can we just . . . start there?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He leaned in to feather his lips across hers once more.

Somehow they got up and together they got her clothes back on. He bundled her out the door and into his truck. He was gunning the engine and pulling onto the dark street before he asked her, “Your house?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He glanced at her, then back at the road. “You’re right. It doesn’t. It never has.”

He reached over and took her hand, kept it in his as they moved through the city, down Magazine Street past the warehouses, under the Pontchartrain Expressway and into Allie’s neighborhood in the lower French Quarter. He made a turn onto Orange Street, then they were in front of her house, and he parked.

She waited while he walked around the truck to open her door. He lifted her down, his big hands around her waist, and his touch burned into her, making her need all the more acute. She could barely stand to wait as he led her up the walkway, up the steps, took her keys and opened her front door.

He grabbed her wrist, encircling it with his strong fingers.

“Bedroom,” he demanded. “Or it’s going to be right here on the hall floor.”

She nodded and led him down the narrow hall.

He was on her almost the moment they passed through the doorway, stripping her down until she was naked and barefoot once more. Her pulse was a hot, thready beat in her veins, her chest, between her thighs. Desire was something solid, palpable, nearly unbearable.

She put her hands on his chest, tried to unbutton his shirt.

“Mick . . .”

He took her wrists in his hands and pulled them down to her sides, held them there as he looked into her eyes, and she understood, her mind shifting gears. If they were going to be together right now they would be in role, submissive and Dominant. She understood his need to leash his desires. Understood how dangerous he felt he was to her.

She would show him tonight she could take it. That the full darkness inside him was exactly what she wanted, yearned for.

He moved around her, one hand on her body, sliding over her stomach, her side, her back. He stood behind her, and she waited for whatever would come next, her heart hammering, her body aching for more.

When he wrapped his arm around her neck and tightened just enough to restrict her breathing, she felt his command with an enormous sense of relief.

Oh, yes.

She closed her eyes as he pulled tighter. With his other hand he swept her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck tenderly. She loved the combination of roughness and gentleness. Even trusting him enough to do this bit of breath play with her was erotic. Her body flooded with desire, her legs going weak. Even weaker when he bit into her skin, just hard enough to hurt.

She moaned.

“Yeah, baby girl. I want to hear it now. I want to hear everything you’re feeling. Every groan. Every panting breath. Give it to me.”

She leaned her head back onto his shoulder, and he slid his hand into her hair, grasped it at the roots and pulled tightly.

“Oh . . .”

“You like this. It makes you feel taken over, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I like the way your whole body bows when I pull your hair. The way I can see your yielding in the way you move. It’s beautiful. And so, so hot.”

He pulled harder, the pain making her gasp.

“You like that, too.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway.

“Yes, Mick.”

He pulled until her neck bent back as far as it could. He pulled harder and she had to arch her back. And groaned when he bent to kiss her throat right where it met her shoulder—her favorite spot.

“Oh, yeah, I remember, Allie. I remember everything about you,” he murmured against her skin before he bit her.

“Oh!”

Her legs nearly went out from under her, but he had a firm hold on her. He licked her skin, then bit again, harder this time, hard enough to make her draw in a long, deep breath as she tried to manage the pain. Then his tongue bathed the sore skin once more, a lovely sensation.

When he lifted her arm and bit into the delicate skin on her inner bicep, she gasped. He followed the bite with a soft, lingering kiss, then helped her straighten up and turned her around to face him.

“Can you stand by yourself?”

She nodded.