Chapter 3
Nathan waited, holding himself so still and tight that his muscles started to hurt. Tara was making a joke, so really, he should force a fake laugh, but he couldn’t.
The best he could do was hold perfectly still and try not to show his reaction to her words.
She was his best friend. His oldest friend.
He repeated those phrases, using them to create a shield that held back the fantasy trying to take shape in the dark corners of his mind.
“Nathan, did you hear me?”
“Yes.” He’d been holding his breath too, so the word escaped on a heavy exhale. “You almost had me going there for a minute.” Now, he did manage to fake a laugh.
“I’m not joking.” Tara’s gaze slid away from his, her shoulders rounding. “Well, I wasn’t. But based on your reaction?—”
Nathan moved before he thought better of it. He leaned over and grasped her wrist. Not her shoulder, which would have been much more impersonal, but her wrist.
Capturing, manacling, her with his hand.
He only ever touched subs like this.
Tara sucked in air, not looking at him.
“What do you mean you weren’t joking?” he demanded.
“It’s perfectly fine if you’re not interested?—”
“Tara.”
She stilled, her gaze on the glass she held in her free hand.
“Tara look at me.”
She turned, gaze rising to his face.
She obeyed .
Shit. And fuck yes .
“Were you serious?” he asked quietly.
“I was.” Tara spoke with a calm tone that belied her earth-shaking proposal.
“You understand how the game is meant to be played, right? We wouldn’t just be discussing our letter. We’re expected to scene together. Do the things on our list.”
Tara’s brow arched in a look he knew well. It was her “are you stupid or do you think I’m stupid?” look.
“Yes, Nathan, I understand.”
He sat back, methodically working through his reaction.
Tara tugged the wrist he still held. He hadn’t even realized he hadn’t let go.
And he didn’t want to let go now.
So he didn’t.
Nathan tightened his grip, just briefly. She stopped trying to pull away.
“Why?” he asked. “Why would you want to…” That statement led somewhere he shouldn’t go, so he backtracked. “Is it because you really want to play the game?”
He was her only option of partner.
Tara shook her head. “No. Obviously the game is a factor, because it pushed us to be together when we normally avoid one another here. But if I didn’t want to play the game with you, I wouldn’t. As I said, I’m not going to be a member starting next week.”
Nathan stared at her, a slimy dread filling him. “Are you sick?”
Tara’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. Before she could speak, he cut in.
“If you are, just tell me what it is. I’ll invent something. To fix it.”
“Nathan, take a breath. I’m not sick. I’m not dying. I’m just planning to make a change in my life.”
He swallowed, willing down the anxiety that her words had raised. She’d said work was okay, but maybe she was taking a pay cut and going into academia?
The need to know was riding him hard, but she’d given him that look that said she didn’t want to discuss it further, and he would respect that. Even if curiosity was killing him.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” He rubbed the inside of her wrist with his thumb in a habitual comforting gesture he used with subs before and after applying cuffs.
It was terrifying that it didn’t feel weird to touch her this way.
Her breathing was uneven as she watched the small movement of his thumb. “I wish I could say nothing will change for us, but I know better. And I try not to lie to you.”
Slowly, Nathan released her wrist. He trailed his fingertips over her palm, eliciting a slow inhale as a reaction, before lacing their fingers together.
Tara gripped him tight, as if she were drowning and he were a rope.
His gaze flew up to hers, his heart hammering with panic. He didn’t know why she was holding on so tight, but if she needed him, he’d be there.
Tara showed no outward signs of distress, her head turned slightly away from him, her gaze focused on nothing in particular. Yet her hand still gripped his as if she’d fly apart if he let go.
“Tara.”
“Hmm?”
“Come here.” He tried to make it an invitation, not a command, but wasn’t entirely successful.
It would be easy to blame the location, say being in the club made him issue commands rather than requests, but it was more than that.
It was Tara.
Something was wrong. Something was causing her distress. And every molecule in his body wanted to wrap her up and hold her. To make her feel safe but also do things to her that would erase the rest of the world from her consciousness, at least for a little while.
Tara scooted toward him, still not looking at him. When her hip touched his knee, he gripped her waist, easing her up onto his lap.
She gasped in surprise, grabbing his forearms and holding tight.
Her body was soft and pliant under the robe. Possibly naked.
Was he really about to see his best friend naked?
Maybe. If they both threw all sense into the trash and went ahead with the game.
Did he want to?
Yes. He did.
And as she settled on his lap, Nathan slowly brought down the walls he’d mentally erected around Tara. The walls that kept her in a neatly labeled “friend” category.
Once, he’d let himself daydream about asking her out, but he’d been sure, so damned sure, that they wouldn’t be sexually compatible. And then their growing friendship had become a relationship he wanted to protect at all costs.
If he’d known when he was twenty that she was not only smart, funny, strong, and gorgeous, but also kinky…
College would have been a lot different.
His entire life would be different.
When he learned she was a sub, he’d mourned what could have been.
Tara couldn’t believe she was perched on Nathan’s lap.
She’d had a bad minute there when he laughed, almost dying of embarrassment when she thought he was rejecting her proposal. Now seated with her back to his front, she had a moment of privacy, and used it to squeeze her eyes closed and grimace.
“You really want to do this?” Nathan murmured from right behind her. He felt deliciously warm where she was touching him—backs of her thighs, where his hands still rested on her waist.
“I want to at least discuss it.” She was well aware that she was now backtracking, hedging her bets.
“Facing me, or facing away?” Given how close they were to one another, his voice was quiet, not a whisper but intimate, thanks to the lowered volume.
If she sat facing him, would she still sit on his lap? Maybe with her legs spread over his?
Her pussy clenched at the thought, the arousal shocking in its ferocity, given it was prompted by such a benign idea. Then again, it wasn’t just the mental image of her thighs spread open for him that she was reacting to. His thumbs were sweeping little half circles along her sides, the touch firm enough to avoid being ticklish.
But maybe if she said she wanted to talk while facing him, he’d slide her off his lap, back onto the couch.
“Facing away,” she murmured, not wanting to lose the contact.
“Okay, slide back.”
Gingerly, Tara scooted her butt half an inch, her satin robe making it easy to slide on his leather-clad thighs.
Nathan huffed out a soft laugh, his fingers tightened, and he jerked her back. She yelped in surprise as her ass nestled against his crotch, her back smacking against his chest.
She felt his warm breath on the side of her head and cheek. Her hands tightened on his forearms.
They were both wearing clothes, and yet this felt more intimate than being naked with someone else.
More intimate, and more arousing. Her nipples tightened into diamond-hard points, and her sex pulsed in time with her heartbeat. She wanted to turn her head and kiss him. Wanted to feel his hand at her throat, and his body weighing her down. She wanted this man who knew her intimately to now touch her intimately.
The arousal that spread through her was like a wildfire—hot, fast, and destructive.
This was too much too fast.
She leaned forward, putting distance between her back and his chest, shocked and worried at the strength of her reaction.
His hands fell away, leaving cold spots on her hips from the loss of heat.
“Tara,” he sighed. “You can’t even bring yourself to sit on my lap. This won’t work if we can’t touch?—”
“Wait, just… I need a second. And that’s not what’s happening.” She took several deep breaths, until her brain no longer felt like it was murky with arousal.
Facing away was the wrong choice. She needed to be looking at him to have this conversation.
Gripping the bottom of her robe closed with one hand, she climbed off his lap. Nathan let out another sigh, staring down at his legs.
Tara nudged his ankle with her toe and he looked up, his brows rising as she slid onto his lap once more.
This time, she sat side-on, her butt nestled in the seam of his slightly spread legs, her back against the arm of the couch.
The new position meant he wasn’t taking her weight directly and entirely on his thighs. She was just under average height, but just over a “healthy” weight. Her detailed explanation about why BMI was a flawed measurement had only made the nurse at her doctor’s office sigh.
Nathan slid one hand between her body and the arm of the couch, pressing his palm against her lower back. “I don’t want you to hurt your back.”
She blinked, touched that he’d thought about it and surprised he remembered her back issues. Two years ago, she’d been so deep in a project that she spent seventy hours a week, for weeks in a row, hunched over a bench in her wet lab. She’d gone home only to sleep and eat, and the only exercise she got was walking to and from her car.
Her body objected to the schedule and lack of activity, with prejudice.
The back spasm had lasted ten days, and had been some of the most excruciating pain she’d ever experienced. She’d talked to Nathan every other day while she lay on the hardwood floor in her bedroom. He explained where and how he was stuck on his own work, the technical aspects of their problem-solving discussions helping to distract her.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“You’re welcome.” His hand was big and warm, and his thumb started to knead a muscle in her lower back.
Tara groaned, letting her head tip so she was looking at the ceiling.
“That’s a dangerous noise to make.”
Her head snapped up. Nathan was looking at her…mouth? She pressed her lips together, and his nostrils flared. He was looking at her mouth.
“Are you attracted to me?” Tara asked bluntly.
Nathan’s lips twitched, as he was more than used to how direct she could be. “You know sexual attraction isn’t necessary for BDSM.”
“I’m well aware. Trust is what’s critical.” He’d dodged the question, but the way he was looking at her was an answer.
“And I trust you.” His words sounded like a confession, as if it was something more intimate than trust he was admitting.
But maybe trust was the pinnacle. Broken trust could destroy love, but falling out of love didn’t necessarily breed distrust.
“I trust you, too,” she said.
“That’s what I’m scared of losing.”
That was a sobering thought, and she tensed, starting to climb off his lap before she’d fully processed his words. Her instincts were working faster than her internal monologue, and her instincts valued her relationship with Nathan more than…
More than what?
Why had she proposed playing the checklist game as assigned, when the logical course of action was to refuse?
Because you’ve always wondered what could have been.
And soon you’re not going to have the time or energy to explore what-ifs.
Tara forced herself to relax, her tight muscles going soft, her weight settling on his thighs and against the arm of the couch.
Nathan’s free hand, the one not supporting and massaging her lower back, settled on her bare knee.
Tara’s legs were stretched out, her toes braced against the other arm of the couch, a slight bend in her knees, the soft material of her robe clinging to her legs enough that she wasn’t too exposed.
His hand felt hot and strong against her knee, and Tara suppressed a moan.
Then his thumb tucked under the edge of the fabric, flicking it up. The bottom of the right side of her robe slithered to the side, exposing her right leg all the way to the hip.
His hand slid halfway up the newly exposed flesh. Tara held her breath, watching his hand, her whole body warm and tingling with anticipation.
“To answer your question,” Nathan said mildly. “Yes. I’ve always thought you were gorgeous.”