Page 70 of Wicked Sin

“Nothing. It’s fine. It probably won’t happen again now. I’ll go read for a bit.”

I point to the TV mounted on my wall. “We could watch something. Here, or downstairs. I’m on vacation,” I tease. “I can stay up late.”

She shifts from one foot to the other. “No. I’m okay.”

But she doesn’t go away, either.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

A shake of the head.

I roll the dice. “Taylor, do you want a hug?”

She bursts into tears, and I go to her.

“This is so fucking stupid,” she mutters into my shirt when I wrap my arms around her again.

I hope it feels good for her. It feels damn good for me.

“I can usually deal with them better than this.”

“You’ve been through the wringer.”

She exhales roughly and nods. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“No, for…yesterday. I came on too strong.”

Fuck. “No, princess. You really didn’t. I wanted what you wanted. I just need to make sure I’m not taking advantage of you. We can’t go full blast like that. Not if—”

I cut myself off. Now is not the time.

“If what?”

I pull back, putting a little bit of space between us. Just enough so she can see my face and I can see hers. “Is now really the time for this conversation?”

“Probably yesterday was, but I’m not very good at being honest, so…” She shrugs inside my arms. “Whatever. Now is as good as any time. Unless you don’t want to.”

I want to. “Last night was hot. Like, really fucking hot. Hotter than I expected, which sounds all kinds of wrong. You are amazing. A beautiful, sexy surprise. And I think it could have gotten really out of control there. I would have regretted hurting you.”

“You can’t hurt me.”

“Youwanted meto hurt you.” Did she not realize that? Fuck, maybe she didn’t. “And that can be hot. But given everything you’ve been through… Fuck, Taylor. I don’t know. I just don’t want to accidentally trigger something horrible and not be prepared to deal with the fallout. I want you to be able to trust me completely. To be honest with me about what you want, what you can’t handle, and that doesn’t happen by instinct or by ESP. You know?”

Her eyes are wide. “No. I don’t. What are you talking about?”

Jesus. “Okay. How about we start here. I like kinky sex. Sometimes, really fucking kinky shit.”

Her expression is almost comical now. Eyes as big as saucers, perfect little mouth dropped into a classic O. Perfect to shove my fingers into and make her gag—if that’s her thing.

Which it probably isn’t because of the sudden innocence I’ve just discovered.

Damn it all to hell.

I pull back further, and her hands wrap around my arms, stopping me. “Tell me more,” she whispers. “I’m not stupid. I know what kink is. Tell me more about what you’re talking about.”

“Have you never thought of yourself as kinky?”

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