“Put your feet on the dash.” Liam pushed another button and she felt warm air near the windshield.
She hesitated, looking sideways at him and then at the spotless, white leather dashboard. It looked soft and supple enough to sleep on. “Are you sure?”
“Take your shoes off,” he instructed. “And put your feet up.”
She did, leaning back in the seat, the warm air beginning to thaw her frozen toes. “Ohhh that’s so yummy.”
Liam guided the car onto the expressway at her direction-it was almost a straight shot to her house now-glancing occasionally in the rearview to check on his brother, and keeping an eye on her in the passenger seat.
“How fast can this car go?” she inquired, watching him shift gears, easing the vehicle faster.
He shifted again, settling at a respectable speed, considering the weather. “About two-hundred miles an hour.”
She gave a low whistle, shaking her head. “I bet no one can keep up with you.”
“You could say that.” He didn’t look at her, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth.
Katie wiggled her toes-they were finally getting warm-and watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was way more handsome than Patrick, she decided. Less boyish and far more broad than his brother, Liam had an air of quiet confidence and experience about him that made her feel immediately at ease. She remembered how quickly he had taken charge of things in the basement, but she didn’t dwell on that thought, her face burning at the memory. What had she been thinking?
“I’m really sorry about what happened back there, Katie.” Liam’s words jerked her out of her own thoughts, and she looked at him, startled, wondering if he could read minds. “Patrick never should have posted that ad.”
“It was my fault. I just…” She sighed, toying with the button on her coat. “At the last minute, I freaked.”
“It happens. Don’t blame yourself.” His enormous hand covered hers, giving it a gentle squeeze before moving back to the gearshift. “It was Patrick’s responsibility to take care of you, and he failed.”
She glanced in the side mirror, seeing the headlights of her Honda-dusk was quickly turning to evening-Patrick following close behind. “Don’t be too hard on him.”
“I’ll be as hard as I need to be.” Liam’s jaw tightened and she didn’t argue. She doubted anyone argued with him much.
“I just…” She shrugged. “I realized at the last minute…” Pausing, she tried to find a way to tell him what she’d felt in that moment, how her sudden realization had made it so urgent for her to stop any forward motion.
“That you’re not submissive?” he offered, that smile back again.
“No!” Her protest came out quite forcefully, surprising her.
His smiled widened. “I didn’t think so.”
“No,” she said again, softer this time, trying to explain. “I just realized that if I went through with it, that I would regret it.”
He cocked his head, curious. “Why?”
“Because…” She looked down, toying with her button-the one on the other side was missing. “Because…”
Because he isn’t the one.
But she couldn’t tell him that. “I guess it just felt wrong… with Patrick.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Liam nodded, glancing over at her. “You should always trust your instincts.”
“What did you mean when you said that Patrick was a top, but not a Dom?” She thought she knew the answer already-she’d read everything she could get her hands on and had memorized all the terms and their definitions.
Liam was quiet for a moment, the only sound the hum of the engine and the wet slush of the tires on the road. “My brother is focused on how much control he has over someone else. That makes him a top, not a Dom.”
His answer surprised her, going far deeper than anything she’d ever read. “So what’s a Dom, then?”
“A Dom…” He looked thoughtful, his lower lip pulled between his teeth, eyes on the road. “A Dom measures how much control he has over himself, not how much control he can exert over a submissive.”
“Oh.” She blinked at his response. For some reason, it made her feel warm all over. In fact, the heater was now making her rather… hot.
“Too complicated?” Liam half-smiled as she took her feet off the dash, her socks dry now, slipping them into her clogs. “I guess what I’m saying is that tops act. Dominants simply… are.”
She turned more toward him, her knee brushing against his hand on the gearshift. “So you’re a Dom?”
“Yes.”
“Do you…” She swallowed, wondering how to approach the subject. What if he said no? “I mean… are you open to new clients?”
“Sorry.” Liam shook his head, giving her jean-clad knee a gentle let-down squeeze. “I’m very particular.”
Her heart lurched in her chest. She couldn’t take no for an answer. She just couldn’t.
“So…? What…? I have to submit an application? Go through an interview process?”
“No.” He shook his head slowly, sadly.
“But-”
His hand moved to the gearshift, leaving her feeling cold again. “I’m afraid it’s invitation only.”
“And I’m not invited?” She turned toward the door, folding her arms across her chest, trying not to take what he said personally and failing, miserably. Patrick had been more than willing to talk to her, to set her at ease, to educate her and offer to set a scene with her.
This man-he was stubborn. Arrogant. And what did he know anyway?
“Why do you want to be a submissive?”
She sniffed. “I don’t.”
“No?” He looked at her, confused.
“I don’t want to be a submissive.” Katie swallowed, turning her face toward the window, feeling tears welling up. Oh god, not again. Hadn’t she’d cried enough in front of this awful man? “I am a submissive.”
They were quiet, the silence stretching as the Maserati covered the snow-covered road like a cat, purring low to the ground. They were getting closer to her home now and she wanted to give him a real answer, something that might change his mind, make him understand how important it was, how desperate she was.
So she told him about Thomas Dunn and “The Erotic Bondage Handbook.” And once she began, she couldn’t stop. She told him about all the other books and the web sites and how she’d found Patrick. And then she told him about losing her father when she was ten, to cancer, watching the strongest man she’d ever known fade away until he finally disappeared. She talked about her mother’s aimless wandering, living in an RV and being homeschooled as a teen, about boys who thought she was too shy to bother, about a chaotic world filled with pain and insanity and constant choices, about never knowing which one was the Lady or the Tiger.
She talked about becoming a librarian, about finding routine and order and, finally, quiet. She talked to him while tears ran down her face and soaked her coat and she didn’t care, she had to make him understand that this thing that she’d only read about in books, this crazy, kinky, twisted thing, had made her feel alive in ways she didn’t understand, but wanted- needed — to experience.