Page 136 of The Fine Line
“Tell me.”
“Yes,” she admits.
“Well, you want to know what I think?”
I take her jaw clenching as a yes.
“I think,” I say, voice low and steady, “deep down, you’re starving for someone who can strip all that away. Someone who makes you forget how to hold it together.”
I lift a hand, not quite touching her cheek, but close enough that she can feel the heat. Her skin flushes beneath the suggestion alone.
“You never answered me,” I say, planting both hands on the counter beside her thighs, caging her in.
“Was it the fear that made you wet…or was it me?”
She steels her spine.
“Personally,” I say, “I think it was both.”
She swallows hard.
“You say I don’t know you,” I go on. “But I do. I know that being scared turns you on… and that letting go terrifies you.”
I pause. Let it settle.
“That’s why I scare you. Because you know I can make you lose control.”
I watch her—watch the shift in her eyes. The surrender.
“Now, be a good girl,” I mutter, stepping back. “Don’t move.”
I start to turn toward the door, but catch her in my peripheral as she starts to close her legs.
“I said don’t.”
She glares at me. But slowly—deliberately—spreads her legs again.
“Stay just like that.”
Then I walk out.
I head into my bedroom and grab the footstool from in front of the reading chair.
When I return, Caroline hasn’t moved.
“Good girl.”
“Fuck you.”
My lips twitch. “Is that what you want?”
Her eyes narrow.
“Maybe it’s you who needs a reminder of our house rules,” I say, stepping closer. “No sex.”
“Correct—”
“Unless you ask me for it.”
