Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(185)

of Bennett? She liked that he challenged her. She liked handing control to him, knowing

he’d never abuse it. She liked how he looked at her, not only the admiring gazes he

gave her body, but when he locked his eyes to hers and seemed to see into her soul. He

saw the real her. He acknowledged the woman she was—in and out of the bedroom—not

just as who she was as his submissive.


Ainsley let her head fall back and stared at the ceiling.


So what to do now?


Call Ben and share the news she hadn’t gotten canned?


Confess she’d fallen in love with him? Not only as Bennett the Dom, but as Ben the

man? That she wanted them both?


Or would he believe her confession was only a knee-jerk reaction to her relief at not

losing her job?


Or would he think she’d only come to him because he’d quit the Rawhide Club?


Don’t think about it now. Get back to work.


But the rest of the afternoon was a total wash.


So many thoughts bounced in her brain, she pled a headache to her staff and shut off

the lights in her office. Her mind kept drifting to sex, specifically the night she’d

shown up at Ben’s house to seduce him with plain old vanilla sex. Intending to prove

they didn’t need foreplay in the form of ropes, cuffs, vibrators or restraints. They

could get naked, roll around between the sheets, until hungry kisses and fevered

touches weren’t enough. Then Ben could pin her body beneath his and gaze into her eyes

as he slowly slipped inside her. Loving her as fiercely and hotly as he always did.



It could’ve happened that way.


But it hadn’t.


He’d gotten off. She’d gotten off. It wasn’t bad sex; it just wasn’t great sex.


Afterward, she laid beside him, feeling like she used to before, during, and after sex

—awkward. Anxious. Self-conscious.


Then his hot body had spooned behind hers, because he’d sensed her retreat and he hadn

’t allowed it. “So while that was fun, what the hell has gotten into you, Ainsley?”


“I came here to prove I can seduce you. We can have sex anytime we want without all

the kinky accoutrements.”


“And?”


“And I realized I couldn’t have seduced you if you hadn’t let me.”


He’d laughed. “You accept that I’m a Dom, but you’re still fighting the idea

you’re submissive.”


A statement. “Maybe. When I’m with you, when we’re in the moment, I don’t think

about anything but how you make me feel or how much my surrender pleases you. But when

I’m by myself, or at work, those feelings of…wrongness pop up. Like there’s

something wrong with me for loving when you dominate me. There’s something wrong with

me for liking that you use cuffs, ropes and handcuffs on me. There’s something wrong

with me for wanting to get my butt paddled or to feel the flogger on my skin or the

riding crop connecting with my flesh. I wonder why I can’t be satisfied with—”


“Vanilla sex?” he supplied.


“Yes. Then when we have vanilla sex…it’s not as satisfying and I wonder why I want

to give up fantastic sex because what we do behind closed bedroom doors isn’t the