N is for... (Checklist Book 14) by L DuBois (best classic books TXT) 📕

means you’re controlling in the bedroom, well then I guess the ways we’re fucked up, the ways we’re wounded, somehow match.”

His arms came around her, his cheek resting on her hair.

They stayed that way, just holding one another, for a long time.

“You need a rug. The floor is hard.” Daniel tipped his head back against the seat of the sofa so he was looking at her.

“Normally people don’t sit on the floor.” Autumn held up a piece of melon. He opened his mouth and she popped it in.

It was nearly 3a.m. but she wasn’t tired. Neither, apparently, was Daniel. About an hour ago they’d both gotten hungry, so she’d made a quick tray of fruit, crackers, and cheese. When they brought it to the couch, rather than sitting beside her, he’d opted for the floor.

His waistcoat was with his jacket, draped over one of the counter chairs. His tie hung loose around his neck.

For the past few hours they’d talked. About their jobs—hers in the world of finance, his as a forensic accountant, and one of the go-to expert witnesses for the Justice Department. He couldn’t talk about many of his cases, since there were gag orders in place, but he told her what he could.

They had a funny moment when they realized that if Autumn did ever decide to turn to a life of crime, it would probably be someone like Daniel the Feds brought in to look at her financial records.

She’d had a brief interrogation/prison role play fantasy, but was keeping that to herself for now.

They’d talked about college and their best friends, which had led to her remembering to text Summer that she was still alive and that she had in fact brought Daniel home with her.

They talked about their favorite restaurants and movies. Their hobbies—she crocheted, which had made him laugh, but she knew it wasn’t at her, rather because it was so unexpected.

He surfed and was teaching himself guitar. She’d launched into a long diatribe on how he was basically a walking young adult novel hero. Handsome, protective, wealthy, with two sexy hobbies and a tragic past.

He’d laughed so hard he inhaled wine and she had to pound on his back.

Now the conversation had died down, settling into a companionable silence.

“What are you thinking about?” She slid her hand through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp, which he seemed to like.

“You.”

“Aww, that’s cute, but we’re pretty well past the point where we need cute pickup lines.”

Daniel rolled onto his knees, turning to face her. “It wasn’t a line.”

“All right…what about me?”

“I was thinking that you’re probably going to panic a little when our first official date turns in to me topping you in the bedroom.”

She froze, every muscle in her body tensing. The languid warmth of their companionship turned into something else. Raw, hot need. It terrified her.

“Probably,” she agreed, sounding a little breathless.

Daniel scooted closer, his hips against the front of the couch. He reached out, planting his hands on either side of her shoulders. She had her legs curled up to the side, mermaid style, so she was now trapped. “Your trauma is more recent than mine.”

“Having two boyfriends react shittily to my kink isn’t even in the same league as what you—”

He shook his head, cutting her off with a decisive, “No. We don’t qualify or compare trauma.”

“You’re right.” She shook her hair back. “So if you’re going to top me after our date, are you going to wind up in a guilt/shame spiral when you leave marks on my ass?”

“You do remember that I have no problem marking you…or punishing you.”

She hummed in acknowledgment.

“Imagining your ass with a handprint mark on it isn’t making me feel bad, or guilty.”

“What is it making you feel?” she murmured.

He leaned in, gaze traveling down her face to her cleavage. “It’s making me feel like turning you over my knee right here. Right now.”

Yes. Oh yes, touch me. Spank me.

“Nope,” she gasped, surprising herself. But as hot as this conversation was, this felt like a date, and her instincts were screaming at her not to let it veer into BDSM territory.

“We’re…we’re in the living room and we were just having a nice night and, and…”

“Calm down, lover.” He dropped his hands. “We’ll set limits. You only want to play when we’re physically in the bedroom? We can do that. We can have rules. A signal.”

“Wait, wait, are we doing this?” She gestured between them. “Are we…dating? Are we going to apply to be a bonded pair at the club?” It was the term Las Palmas used to cover partners who had a formal relationship. It was an umbrella term that included collaring and a few other things.

“I could say something like, ‘Do you believe in soul mates?’ Or ‘Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with someone after only a day?’ But you said no cheesy pickup lines, so I won’t say either of those things.”

“This might end badly,” she warned.

“It might. Or maybe we’ll die together side by side when we’re ninety.”

Autumn threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. It was an awkward embrace, with him bent over while he was still kneeling on the floor. It didn’t matter. She just needed to hold him.

“This is terrifying,” she murmured, “because if it doesn’t work…”

“We’ll break each other’s hearts.” Daniel slid his hands under her ass, and hauled her off the couch so she was sitting astride his legs. “If it happens, it happens. But neither of us is afraid of a little pain.”

She looked into his eyes, and realized she would rather risk her heart for the chance to love, and be loved by, this man. Maybe he’d turn out to be like Mike, and start expecting her to be submissive in all aspects of life. Or find her needs boring after a while. From him, those attitudes would hurt far worse than it had with her other exes.

She would take that risk, for him.

With him.

Autumn shook