“So talk,” she said after a long, deafening silence.
Xander moved, and Mercedes glanced down as he reached for her hands, linking his fingers with hers before lifting her arms up over her head and pinning them against the glass.
Ok, this was not good.
When she looked back up into his eyes, Mercedes knew he would see more than she wanted him to. She couldn’t deny the fact that her body was humming. Being this close to him, his hands holding her so easily in place, was doing funny things to her insides. Sort of the way things went last night.
Again, there was the problem. She had to remind herself of the most important thing.
She. Was. Not. A. Submissive.
Not at all.
And that’s what Xander wanted.
Her entire life revolved around her hard earned control – in and out of the bedroom. There was no room in her life for a man who wanted to order her around, to insist that she do what would please him. As the pathetic tale goes: been there, done that.
“Young lady, you will not be leaving this house.” “I don’t recall approving you to wear that.” “Get off the goddamn phone.” “You won’t get a penny from me. If you want it, work for it.” “Dammit, Priscilla, I didn’t give you permission to buy her that.”
Her father’s words rang inside of her head, the constant orders and restrictions, his infallible ability to ensure she never got what she requested. He’d rode her hard from the time she was little, never giving her an ounce of freedom because he had preferred to keep her and her mother under his thumb.
She damn sure wouldn’t let any man control her like that again. It was the very reason she left home as soon as she graduated from high school even though her father had moved out the day she turned eighteen.
“Please don’t,” she whispered to Xander now, the words more a plea than a command. She did not want to fight with him, and she found that her resistance to him wasn’t nearly as fortified as she’d once believed.
“Don’t what?” he asked, sounding way too curious.
“I don’t want to do this,” she told him.
She didn’t want to do this, no matter what her traitorous body was projecting.
Shit, who was she kidding? She did want this. She wanted him up against her, wanted to feel the warmth of his body the way she had last night. Even while she had slept alone in her bed, she’d ached for this man although she knew there was no chance in hell that she would ever cross over to the dark side.
“I’m not asking you to do anything.”
“No?” Mercedes glared at him.
Infuriating Dom.
He was asking for everything, and he very well knew it. They’d been friends for too long. She knew how he operated. And what that said about her, because she’d allowed him to manipulate her to this point, she didn’t want to think about.
“Fine. Then how about this? I can’t do this,” she told him. “You know I can’t, X. It’s not who I am.”
Xander unlinked their fingers, but he kept her pinned with her arms still above her head, one giant hand circling around her wrists while the other moved down to cup her cheek. To her horror, she leaned into his touch.
“But you want to, don’t you?” he asked, his tone gentle.
“No! I don’t. I already told you that!” she yelled.
When Xander merely stared back at her, Mercedes fought the urge to scream at the top of her lungs. It was either that, or to break down in tears because this man – this Dom – was wearing down her resistance. Clearly she wasn’t as convincing as she was trying to be.
He didn’t say anything for a long time, and Mercedes realized what he was doing. Damn it. He was pulling that psychological, manipulative bullshit on her. Xander was letting her think it through, giving her time to come to a decision on her own. It’s the way he operated, how he handled all of his subs. He would never force anything on anyone which meant if a woman wanted something from him, she’d have to agree up front.
Damn it.
“Let me go,” she ground out through gritted teeth. She was not going to give in to him. No way in hell.
Xander didn’t budge. He just continued to pin her with his hand on her wrists and his beautiful eyes peering down at her, probably reading her mind if she had to guess.
That wasn’t good either. Especially considering the questions running loose through her brain.
If she were so adamant that she didn’t want this, why was her body burning for him? Why was she feeling things she hadn’t felt in… well, in years? Why was she suddenly wanting to relive what she’d felt last night when he was touching her?