Revealing Us (Inside Out #3)(14)

“Yes,” I inally whisper. “Yes. I did.” I hold my breath and wait for the reply that doesn’t come. One second. Two. No words follow. I start to get up.

Chris’s hand presses between my shoulder blades and holds me there, and the warmth of his breath teases my neck and ear.

“Stay as you are.”

Then he’s gone, and a wave of unexpected, irrational panic overcomes me. It’s all I can do not to sit up, and I take a deep breath and try to analyze what I’m feeling. I’ve just made a revealing confession that wasn’t easy for me to say out loud, and the last thing I expected, or needed, afterward was to be left lying here, naked and bound.

This isn’t what I expect from Chris. This is the behavior of the Master in Rebecca’s journals. Of Mark. I feel insecure, uncertain. And damn it, I hate the deep insecurity that never seems to stop haunting me, making me question what I know of the man I love, who is nothing like Mark. He isn’t. I know this.

I force another deep breath and repeat that reassurance in my mind, and then suddenly Chris is with me, touching me, and I feel his naked body aligned with mine. The tension inside me fades, warmth spreading over me where I’ve been chilled.

He turns me to my side to face him, his erection thick between my legs, his hand branding my rib cage. His eyes meet mine, and the insanely impossible mix of wicked dominance and sweet tenderness melts away any remaining insecurity.



He strokes the hair from my face. “You do know that there’s nothing wrong with liking it when I spank you, don’t you?”

Heat loods my cheeks and I look down, taken of guard by the return to our prior, explicitly erotic, conversation. His ingers slip under my chin and force my gaze back to his. “It’s just you and me, baby, and I’m not like anyone else who’s ever been in your life. There’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of with me, ever. You can embrace who you really are, and we can be whoever we want to be together.”

My gut clenches at the reference to the way my father and Michael tried to create me and control me; Chris has hit the sore spot. It is a testament to how much he’s become a part of me that he sees this in me, when I hadn’t allowed myself to see it until this moment.

I burn to free my hands and touch him, yet at the same time I want them bound. I want to know where we will go next. “I know,” I whisper. “I know, Chris, and it matters more to me than you can imagine that you aren’t just saying that. You mean it. It’s just going to take me some time to fully get them out of my head.”

“We’re going to strip away all the insecurities they put in your head, baby,” he promises, and he slides his cock back and forth between my legs, sending darts of pleasure down my thighs and back up again. “You and me and a whole lot of pleasure.”

I gasp as he presses inside me, stretching me, and I try to reach for him but can’t, because of my bound hands.

He thinks my past is haunting me, so I can’t handle more than straight-vanilla sex. He thinks that my shyness means weakness, and I want to tell him he’s wrong. But with the feel of him inside me, the heat spreading through me, I can only manage, “What are you doing?”

“What does it feel like I’m doing?” he asks, nuzzling my neck. “I’m making love to you.”

He squeezes my backside, and I moan at the erotic rough-ness in his touch as he pulls me hard against him, sinking his cock deeper inside me. Filling me completely. And this man does ill me completely, in all ways. I want to do the same for him. “But I thought you were going—”

“To make love to you,” he inishes for me, and his cock is stroking back and forth, pumping in and out of me, driving me wild. “Yes, baby, I am.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I argue weakly, nearly overtaken by pleasure. It’s a struggle to simply keep my eyes open, but I ight the sensations overwhelming me to plead my case for my readiness for more. He thrusts hard into me, and I’m all but over the edge. Desperation rises in me and with no hands, I have no weapon but to blurt out my protest. “Chris, damn it. Stop. Listen to me.”

His eyes meet mine, and this time I ind hot coals and burning embers. He thrusts again, a wicked smile on his lips.

“I’m listening. Can’t you tell?”

I pant through the pleasure, determined to convince him I’m ready for that “more” we both crave. “Because I was slow to admit that I liked it when you spanked me, doesn’t mean I can’t handle it when you do. Please. Spank me now. I like it.”

His ingers curl around my neck, dragging my lips a breath from his. “I’m going to do that and a whole lot more to you, Sara. Just not now. Not tonight.” His mouth closes over on mine, soft and sensual, but no less wickedly dominant.

I mean to resist, to inish arguing my point, but this kiss is laced with deep longing and passion, a kiss unlike any we’ve shared since I stepped on that plane hours before. He called me his addiction. He is my addiction, my passion. He’s my reason to breathe, and when he begins to move inside me again, I am lost to the sway of our bodies, to the thrust of his cock. Lost to how much this man completes me.

He rolls me to my back and reaches for the sash around my wrists. Reality slams into me and my eyes snap wide open.

“No,” I say, folding my arms close to my chest. “I don’t want you to free me. You didn’t . . . we didn’t . . . We’ve done slow.