Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(41)

Sipping her wine, she shifted uneasily and finally settled on a cross-legged position. The quiet, softly lit living room was far more intimate than the brightly lit dining room with Carson talking about school. “This is a great wine,” she said. “Very, um, pleasant.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

The top two buttons of Holt’s shirt weren’t fastened, and as he leaned back, the edges gaped, revealing hard pectoral muscles. He’d held her against his solid chest last night. Wrapped iron-hard arms around her. And oh, she wanted to be in those arms again.

Her gaze dropped. His forearms were thick with muscle and lightly dusted with golden hair. Strong hands, corded wrists. A shiver shook her, and she saw her wine start to splash in the glass.

No. Stop it. She didn’t want a man. Stop, stop, stop.

“Josie.”

She looked up and met amused winter-blue eyes.

“Relax, pet.” He studied her for a long moment. “What’s going through that head of yours?”

“Ah…” She gave him a rueful smile. “I’m feeling awkward, I guess. I can’t recall the last time I entertained a man.”

“I see. I’m assuming that’s lack of desire and not opportunity? I did get the impression Peter would’ve been happy to break the dry spell.”

Oh, God, Holt had watched her scene with Peter, hadn’t he? As her face turned hot—again—she wondered how many times a person could flush in one evening before dropping dead of cardiac shock? “Aside from the fact that I’m not interested in Peter, I simply don’t date.”

“I see.” Holt twisted to face her, leaned forward, and grasped her ankles. Pulling firmly, he set her feet onto his lap.

“What are you—” When he closed his hands around one foot, and his strong thumbs pressed against the aching spot under the arch, her eyes almost rolled back in her head. She waved a hand at him. “Never mind. Carry on.”

He grinned. “Are you worried about introducing a date to your son? How Carson would react?”

His hands massaged her foot in slow, rhythmic strokes, pressing deep enough to release tension she hadn’t even realized was there. Leaning her head against the back of the couch, she closed her eyes to savor the sensation. What had he asked? As he pulled, then rolled each toe, she quivered with the pleasure.

Oh, Carson and men. “Exactly. Avoiding dating saves me all sorts of worries.”

The hands on her feet stilled for a second, then resumed. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“Uh-huh. What about you?”

“Hmm?”

“Girlfriend? Fiancée? Wife?”

“None of the above.”

Shame on her for feeling pleased. “I’m sorry.”

“So what did you think of your scene with Peter in the Shadowlands?”

Dragged into reality, she opened her eyes and glared. “You’re ruining my massage, Master Holt.”

His grin was a quick flash of white. “Sorry, baby. Guess you’ll have to learn to multitask. Tell me about the scene.”

She studied him. All his laid-back friendliness wasn’t a…lie. He really was easygoing and sociable; however, at his core, he was as much a Dominant as Master Z. No wonder he’d taken charge of finding Carson last night.

Now he wanted an answer and wouldn’t be deflected with a pout. “I suppose you won’t do my other foot until I answer?”

He pinned her with a level gaze. “Josie, I asked because I want to know. I hope you’ll answer for that reason alone.”

She put her hand over her stomach, which felt quivery or something. She didn’t want to discuss the scene with Peter—and yet the thought of disappointing Holt was equally uncomfortable. “The scene was…all right.”

His gaze kept hers trapped. “Sweetheart, in my opinion, an evasive answer is worse than none.”

She flinched. That’s how she felt when Carson played games with her.

“Let’s try this—did you expect more from the session? Want to…feel more?”

How did he know? “I…yes. It was kind of a let-down.” She shook her head. “I didn’t want him to hurt me, but it just… Something wasn’t there.”

As if rewarding her for speaking, Holt massaged her other leg. His strong, warm hands surrounded her foot. “You’re submissive, Josie, at least in some respects. With Peter, you experienced no loss of control, and I’d say that was what you missed.”

Holt thought she’d wanted to give up control? The idea was wrong—and so appealing her mouth went dry. What would it be like to let someone else take charge? Peter had tried during the scene. “Maybe.”

Holt’s eyes crinkled as if he knew she was bullshitting him.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” she said hastily. “It’s not like I’ll participate in a scene again. It didn’t work for me—probably because I’m not submissive.”

“Oh, you are, pet,” Holt said softly. “However, playing in BDSM is a lot like dating. A failure could be the guy or woman’s fault. It could be there’s no chemistry between them. Or it could be the venue or choice of equipment—like taking a cowboy to a chick-flick.”

She laughed. “I’m not going to—”