Jonah nods. “I can get those for you. Can you show me test results too?”

It hadn’t even occurred to me that Jonah also might be concerned about that. “Um. Yeah, sure.”

“No rush,” he says. “I don’t mind wearing a condom at first. Makes it last longer.”

My cheeks flush as I envision Jonah inside me, pounding me, going on and on and on without mercy—

Jonah must know what I’m thinking, because he tilts his head as if he’s relishing the effect he has on me. He murmurs, “What else?”

Another sip of wine steadies me enough to answer. “I wouldn’t want you to tie me up. Not the first time, anyway.”

He smiles. “I like that you’re thinking about the future. I’ll have plenty of chances to give you what you want.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me before today that Jonah might have been considering a onetime fling. Now that I think about it, that makes more sense than assuming we’d keep playing out this scenario. But I’ve wanted this too long, too much, to assume one night will be enough to get it out of my system. If Jonah’s the right partner for this fantasy, then we have a chance I don’t intend to waste.

Already I sense that one taste of Jonah Marks won’t be enough.

“Yes.” I meet his eyes evenly. “Assuming we decide we like it.”

“I think we will.” My God, his smile right now—it’s hungry, and animal, and I know he’s imagining having me. This instant. The knowledge shakes me in the best possible way.

The waiter shows up with Jonah’s wine. We both fall silent just as long as it takes for Jonah to accept the glass and toss the waiter a twenty. “No change.”

This wine was only $10 a glass. The waiter brightens. Me, I’m glad I bought my own drink. I don’t want to owe anything to Jonah Marks. Yet.

As soon as we’re alone again, Jonah says, “We should talk about what you don’t want the first time versus what you don’t want, ever. If we set the ground rules up front, it’s going to be better for both of us.”

That makes sense. I’ve been thinking this through ever since he made his audacious offer, and by now I think I know what to say. That doesn’t make it easy to get the words out. “Well. Let’s see. I already said that I don’t want you to tie me up the first time, and I guess we worked out the safe-sex thing . . .”

Jonah nods, a touch impatient. Although I never noticed him moving, he seems to have edged closer to me on the sofa. Our knees are nearly touching, now, and his gaze is locked on mine. My uncertainty is a turn-on for him, I realize. How could it be any other way?

Knowing he feeds off my fear makes me even more nervous. It takes me a few seconds to continue. “Okay. Some things I don’t want you to do, ever—one, no weapons. If you have a knife or a gun or something, it’s not going to be hot for me. It’s going to scare me to death.”

Jonah looks startled. He must never have considered that. “No weapons. Absolutely.”

I count the next point off on my fingers. “Two, I realize I might get—banged around during all this, but please try not to actually injure me or cause me serious pain. I’m not a masochist; I don’t get off on that kind of thing.”

“I’m not a sadist, so that works.”

Maybe he’s not a sadist in the physical sense. Emotionally? He has to be. How can you dream about raping women and not enjoy hurting people, in soul if not in body? I guess if you don’t understand what that does to a woman—how badly rape screws with your head, the scars it leaves—you could imagine that your pleasure wouldn’t cause someone else lasting pain.

For a moment I’m angry. I want to tell Jonah everything he doesn’t understand. Make him know how terrible it is.

But I need him to be fucked up, don’t I? The only possible partner for these games is someone as bent as I am.

“All right,” I say. “Third, you don’t film this. You don’t make an audio recording, and you don’t take photographs.”

He looks disappointed. That’s something he wanted, then. “I’d never put anything like that online, or show it to anybody.”

“I believe you, but stuff like that can fall into the wrong hands. Remember the scandal with all those movie stars last year? Some ‘revenge porn’ sites actually hack people’s computers and cell phones. They steal the images if they can.”

This is when I learn what Jonah Marks looks like when he’s angry. His expression darkens, as do his gray eyes. His body tenses, like he wants to throw a punch but isn’t going to let the guy know when it’s coming. “Any man who would do that to a woman is scum.”

I nod. It’s so strange, the division within him—how he can simultaneously hate men who take advantage of women and yet fantasize about being one of them. “So no recordings, no pictures?”

He gives in gracefully. “None.”

“Okay. Finally—this is my last not-ever thing, I think—” I glance around the bar to be sure nobody has wandered closer while I was distracted. Nobody has, but I lower my voice anyway. “Please don’t come on me.”

Jonah blinks, as if he’s surprised. I guess he would be. We’re talking about getting as kinky as anyone can, yet I don’t want him to do something that ordinary.

I don’t. I really, really don’t.

At last he says, “Okay. I won’t.”

If he’s not coming on me, he’ll come in me. I imagine him in my mouth. Suddenly I want to taste him so badly I nearly moan.

I try to cover how flustered I am. “So. What about you? Do you have any limits I should know about?”

The answer I expect is No. He’s going to be the one in control; what limits could he possibly need? Instead Jonah answers me immediately. “The main thing is that if we’re ever discovered—if someone thinks what’s happening is real and steps in or calls the police—you have to set them straight. I don’t care if you’re ashamed of this fantasy. You tell them the truth, no matter what.”

“Of course. I would do that anyway.” I hadn’t even realized what a risk Jonah was taking. He studies my face carefully, and I know he’s trying to figure out whether I’m being honest about backing him up. More gently I add, “We have to trust each other or this doesn’t work.”

“Right.” Jonah goes back to his points like he hadn’t paused. “I told you I wasn’t a sadist. Well, I’m not a masochist either. Sometimes I realize you might want to fight back—and I might like that. If you struggled.” The way he smiles at me makes me go hot all over. I shift on the sofa, and I can feel how slick I am between my thighs. “A few scratches, a slap, that’s fine. A black eye or broken arm I have to explain to people, that’s not fine.”

“Got it.” Like I could take out Jonah Marks. If we ever fought for real, he’d have me down within seconds.

He takes a deep breath. “Last thing, never call me Daddy.”

I stare at him. It’s all I can do not to laugh.

Obviously he sees my amusement. His scowl deepens. “Some women say that, in bed.”

“I know.” I swallow the last of my smile.

“If I ask you to talk, I’ll tell you what to call me. And you’ll say it.”

The urge to laugh vanishes. In its place are other, more primal urges. I want this man to give me orders. I want him to tell me what to do.

If Jonah accepted my weird limit, I can accept his. “‘Daddy’—that’s not one of my things. So we’re good.”

“And for the first time only—” Jonah considers for a moment. “I want to tell you what to say.”

“Do you mean, like, a script?”

“No. I mean, I’ll tell you to shut up, and you’ll do it. You’ll only speak when I let you, and only say what I tell you to say. We can get more—improvisational, as we go on. But this time, I want that much control. Will you give it to me?”

Again I feel that quiver in my belly, fear and wanting intertwined. “Yes, I will.” I’ve given him so much power over me already. A few words won’t make any difference.

Jonah nods, satisfied. We have our ground rules.

The waiter circles by again hopefully, but our wineglasses are still half full. I’ve held true to my plan not to drink too much tonight. Not only will I be driving home, but I also think it’s important to keep my head.