For Angelo(17)

No, wait.

What had he said?

Lane instinctively jerked her hand out of his hold, stiffening in her seat. “What did you say?”

He leaned back with a smirk. “You heard me.”

Most times she wanted to kiss him, but at that moment she had a surprising urge to slap his smirk off his too-beautiful face. She said fiercely, “I’m not an abuse victim waiting to happen!”

“I know that.” His smirk disappeared, but his voice remained calm as he continued, “And it’s where you’re wrong. Masochism isn’t about abuse at all. That’s just how people who don’t understand it twist things. It’s like what I said earlier, tesoro. Sadism and masochism is merely a form of pleasure, a specific way of making one feel good. And for masochists—” He shrugged. “Pain is the stimulus for pleasure.”

That was it? She gazed him uneasily. “You make it sound so simple—”

“Because it is.” Again, he caught her off guard, leaning forward as he reached for her face. “And you believe me, don’t you?” His gaze captured hers as he ran his knuckles on her cheek.

Every cell of her body came alive at the contact, and Lane’s eyes involuntarily drifted close to savor the feel of his touch. “Yes…” And then she realized what was happening. Her eyes flew open, and she said accusingly, “You’re making me say things again!”

He pulled away with a shrug, a gesture that was infuriatingly and effortlessly sexy at the same time. “Mi dispiace, tesoro, but is it my fault if it’s in you to obey me?”

She turned red and tried to hide her dismay behind a glare, sputtering, “So now I’m not just a weird masochist but a Sub, too?”

Another shrug. “Usually, those two come hand in hand, yes.”

The urge to hit him returned with a vengeance, but it was also accompanied by an equally strong urge to bang her head against the table. Dear God, was she really a masochist and a Sub combined?

She looked at Angelo, and the words were out before she could stop them. “Are you telling me the truth? Am I really both?” She expected Angelo to make a joke out of it, but instead his gaze became inscrutable.

“Do you trust me to tell you the truth?”

“I…guess.”

“Then…do you also see that by trusting me, you’re acting like a Sub entrusting herself to a Dom?”

Her eyes widened.

He said gently, “And that’s your answer.”

Lane’s mouth opened and closed.

She reached for her milkshake and saw that her hands were shaking.

Gosh. Oh…gosh.

She was not just a masochist but a Sub, too.

Lane looked down at the table.

Angelo’s gaze narrowed at the way Lane was suddenly staring at the table with utter fascination. Surely she wouldn’t—

Lane took a deep breath. If she banged her head against it, did that mean she would like the feel—

She heard Angelo say in a distinctly clear voice, “Don’t be an imbecile, my Lane.”

Her head jerked up. “Did you just call me an imbecile?” But she was only pretending to be mad because, horrible masochist that she was, she liked the way he was teasing her.

Lane had a silly urge to cry.

Oh. My. GOSH.

She was really a masochist.

Angelo knew a nicer man would have felt dismayed at the look of agony on her face, but he was not like all nice men.

He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and Lane’s tormented expression gave him nothing but sadistic pleasure.

Even so, he tried to be nice, managing to murmur, “I’m sorry this has become such a shock.”

“You don’t sound sorry though,” she couldn’t help pointing out in a mumble.

He shrugged. “Well…if you wish me to be honest, no. I don’t. But then you understand why, don’t you?”

She nodded glumly.

“And you like me this way, don’t you?”

She turned red.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes.”

She glared at him, but since what he said was true—

“Then tesoro, what is the problem?”

“Everything,” she cried out.

“Be more specific.”

“I’m not even halfway to understanding what being a masochist means, and now you’re telling me I’m a slave—”

“I beg to differ,” he countered. “I said you were a Sub, or a Sub in the making—”

“And Subs are slaves, aren’t they?” she demanded. Breathing hard, she closed her eyes for a moment so she could control her emotions, which felt like they were about to burst any moment. When she opened her eyes, she almost screamed at finding Angelo had silently leaned forward, and his face just an inch away from hers.

He pulled away, eyes gleaming with amusement, and she knew he had done it again.

“Sadist!” But her toes curled even as she threw the word at him like a curse.

He smiled beautifully at her just before saying, “Masochist.”

And her toes curled anew, as if to drive the point home.

“This, my Lane—” His hands moved in an expressive gesture that was so typically Italian she almost smiled. “—is how it will be between us. Forget what you’ve heard about other Subs and masochists. For us two, it will always be this good.”