Page 17 of Wild Pitch
“I would consider it if we were in that place.”
“That’s fair. I’m sorry. I feel like I’m dropping a lot on you before we even have our entrees.”
“You think?” I asked, taking a healthy swig of wine. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to chase me away.”
“That’s the opposite of what I’m attempting here. I want to ensure you know exactly what you’re walking into.”
“Yet, somehow, I’m even more confused than when I walked in the door.”
I tried to mask the confusion that was slowly bordering on anger. Did I want to marry this guy? Jesus, we’d met twice and had a couple of terrific text conversations, but here he was, declaring no, never.
I continued, “Maybe this is because I’m twenty-four, but the people I have dated in the past have been more focused on whether or not I’d let them get in my pants, not on whether I wanted to get married.”
“Well, another note of clarity. I very much want to get in your pants, but only if that’s something mutual.”
Those brown eyes locked on mine; I had never had someone be so direct with me, and holy shit, my body, which had always failed me in these situations, began to react. The slight shift in my seat was a tell, and he didn’t miss it.
“Kylie, when you mentioned people, were those people men or women?”
Oh, he caught that. “Both.”
“Are you bisexual?” he asked, and my face burned.
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you enjoy sex with both men and women?” he asked.
My eyes darted left to right, down to my hands, where I realized I’d been picking at my fingernails.
“I don’t enjoy sex with anyone. But I’m attracted to both men and women.” I answered honestly as our eyes met once more.
His hand reached across the table. His thumb stroked my cheek, the pad of his thumb rough against my smooth skin. He then traced my lower lip, and my mouth gaped open of its own volition.
“When we were texting the other night, what did you think when I called you a ‘good girl?’” He asked, his thumb continuing it’s ministrations.
His voice vibrated through me as I felt my body respond. My heart pounded in my chest, nipples puckering against the fabric of my dress.
“Suck,” he commanded.
And without thinking, I drew his thumb into my mouth. His eyes widened with surprise before he smiled back at me.
“That’s my girl.”
He withdrew his thumb and brought his hands back to the table. I gasped at the loss of the heat from his palm against my cheek.
“In any of your palate-cleanser romance books, have you ever considered a BDSM lifestyle?”
“Are you asking if I’ve read about it?”
“Yes, have you?”
“A little bit, yes.”
“Did it interest you?”
“A little bit, yes,” I admitted nervously. Though I was more than a little interested, the problem was that I wasn’t comfortable talking about it.
“Kylie, I need you to be very specific. What about it do you find interesting?”
