Chapter Two
“What did you say?” Whip hard, his voice cracked and he slammed the fork down on the table.
Mal arched a brow at him but otherwise ignored his display. His pride didn’t like her choice of words. “You heard me.”
She ate her risotto, slowly and methodically, even though her date quivered on the edge of violence. She didn’t know him that well, but her instincts said he wouldn’t actually lose his temper. He was too well mannered to treat a woman with disrespect, let alone throw a table and toss her over his shoulder.
Though by the simmering heat in his eyes, that’s exactly what he wanted to do.
“I saw your show. I saw what you like.”
So he’d watched VCONN’s latest hit, America’s Next Top sub. Good. That might make her job a little easier, at least as far as exposing him to her world. She had to admit that she was even more impressed that he’d actually showed tonight. She’d been none too gentle with Andy during the last punishment phase of their show, because she’d discovered that he’d been lying to her and selling VCONN secrets to their competitor, while in her bed and wearing her collar. Colby had arguably seen her at her worst, and still come to meet her.
She pushed the bowl away slightly, leaving the last few bites of risotto so she’d have plenty of room for the cream brûlée. “Then you know I’m in the market for a new pet.”
“I don’t… I won’t. Not that.”
She let amusement dance in her eyes with a quirk on her lips. “You might like being house trained. Andy sure did.”
Colby’s shoulders vibrated, his chin jutting out, his jaws working like he chewed on gravel rather than an expensive steak. “Not. Happening.”
“Good,” she purred, sipping her wine. “Keep on saying that. I like it. I like it a lot.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you treat me like a…a…”
“Dog?” She said helpfully.
Colby growled, certainly very much like a mad frothing-at-the-mouth dog. “Fuck that shit.”
“But not you.” She didn’t change her tone or her manner, just kept casually sipping her wine in between sentences. But she couldn’t look away as emotions crashed across his face. Outrage, pride, desperation, hope, determination, lust. This was the war he needed. His pride, battling her will. And I know exactly who’s going to win. “You want me to fuck you, sugar? Then you’ll do exactly as I say, when I say, how I say.”
He stared at her a moment and then his shoulders drooped. Not into submission, but despair. Not quite what she was going for. “I’ve seen men break before. It’s not pretty. Sobbing, desperate, willing to do anything to save themselves, even sell out a buddy or run from the field. I like you a lot, Mal. God, I can’t even…”
He dragged a hand over his buzz-cut hair and squeezed his nape, staring at her with such desperate longing that she almost said something to lighten the moment. To lighten her requirements. Though deep down, she knew that’d be a mistake.
“A lot. But if that’s what you’re looking for, then I’ll have to walk.”
The waitress set the custard dish before her and started to clear away Colby’s plate, but Mal stopped her. “Leave it. He’s not finished yet.”
The woman’s eyes widened and she gave him a sideways glance. “I’m sorry. Will you want any dessert?”
Colby stared back at her, wordless, terrified, she thought, but so desperate for a taste of affection and hope despite the risk to his pride. “He wants blackberry cobbler with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.”
She nodded and backed away. “Right away, ma’am.”
He released his neck and dropped his hand on the table. His fingers trembled, touching even her cold Mistress heart. “What are you doing to me?”
“Ordering you dessert.”
“I won’t be able to eat it.”
She tapped the crystallized sugar crust on the brûlée and then broke through to the creamy custard beneath. Very much like she was trying to do with him. “Of course you can. But you have to finish the steak first.”
He stared down at his plate like it was covered with worms and beetles. Minutes passed while he contemplated her words without touching the fork or his food. Long enough for the waitress to bring back his dessert, set it on the table beside him, and then flee without a word. Smart woman. She felt the tension singing between them.
Give, and take. Give him some room to run, and then slowly reel him back in before landing him. A beautiful melody, this dance he’d started. One that she intended to finish.
“You said you watched the show. Evidently we did a piss-poor explanation of the power balance between a dominant and a submissive.”
He dared a quick look up at her face, eyes narrowed, mouth hard with resolution. “I think it’s pretty clear who has the power when the dog’s mistress holds the leash.”
“A casual observer may think so,” she agreed, pausing long enough to let the custard melt on her tongue. “But the dog and his mistress know that he could bite her hand any time he chose and simply run away. He comes when she calls because he wants to. He sits at her feet because he wants to. He accepts her collar and leash…”
“I get what you’re trying to say.” Disgruntled, he picked up the fork and started on the steak again. By the hesitant way he started to chew, and then more readily, it still tasted good, surprising him. “I’m telling you I don’t want to.” He swallowed, and then flashed her a cocky, challenging grin as he dipped the fork into the blackberry cobbler rather than taking another bite of steak.
Oh sugar, but you do, so very, very badly. “Tastes good, doesn’t it.”
His smile slipped but he didn’t throw his guard back up. “Yes, ma’am. It does.”
She took another bite of her dessert, making sure to let him know how much she enjoyed it. By the time she swallowed another bite, his eyes smoldered hot enough to set the tablecloth on fire. “When it doesn’t taste good, then you walk. Deal?”
Holding her gaze, he pushed the steak away and dove into the blackberry cobbler like he’d lick it clean or die on the spot. “Deal.”