Page 32 of Carrick
Bellamy’s gaze moved over the room, sharp and slow. She didn’t smile. Didn’t fidget. Just took it in.
I shut the door behind us. “There’s something we have to do before we begin,” I repeated, keeping my voice quiet but firm.
She looked back at me, one brow lifted. “What, like a secret handshake?”
I gave her a look.
She grinned, unbothered. “Or is this the part where you hand me a syllabus and ask for my kink résumé?”
“I could,” I said, stepping closer, “but I’d rather hear it from your mouth.”
I nodded toward the kit. “You’re going to name every item and lay it out on the table, there,” I said, indicating towards the table that was never used as a desk. “One by one. Tell me what they are, and what they’re used for. No guessing.”
Her smile didn’t fade, but her eyes sharpened. “So this is an exam.”
“It’s the price of entry.”
“And if I pass?”
“Then we begin.”
“And if I fail?”
I closed the distance between us in one smooth step and caught her gently—deliberately—by the chin. My thumb brushed along her jaw as I tilted her face up to mine.
Not rough. Certainly not tender. Justundeniable.
She stilled.
“Do you want this or not,kitten?”
Her breath caught—just enough for me to feel it. See it. That flicker in her gaze. That split-second ripple of resistance breaking apart into something else entirely.
Acceptance. Not submission, not yet.
But the door to it.
I saw her swallow. Saw her body soften even as she held my gaze, like the tension in her spine knew what was coming next, and had already started to let go.
Her lips parted slightly, and I felt the shift in the air between us.
She didn’t nod. Didn’t speak. She justmelted—beautifully, quietly and completely, into the weight of my control.
It was the kind of moment most people missed.
But not me. I’d seen it before—in war, in women, in the space between trust and surrender. And I knew the truth of it.
She wanted this. Not just the pain. Not just the pleasure.
She wantedmeto lead.
And I would.
Right after I found out exactly how much she already knew.
I stepped back and looked her over for a moment, just taking in the sight of her. Beneath her hoodie, she wore all black—a simple lace tank top and leggings that clung to her curves like it knew exactly what it was doing. She wasn’t trying to look seductive. Shewasseductive.
Without effort. Without apology.
