Page 95 of Pucking the Team

I noticed the air was laced with the scent of herbs, basil perhaps.

“Pasta.” He stepped away but took my hand. “Pesto, chicken, pine nuts.”

“You cooked?” I followed him through to the kitchen, straightening the neckline of my dress. Remembering it wasworth over four thousand pounds, I was now glad he hadn’t ripped it off me.

This was the first time I’d been in Dylan’s home, and although the floor plan was similar to the brothers’ pad, the walls were painted in richer colors and the furniture was darker. Gold-threaded drapes were half drawn, and low lighting created a moody atmosphere. Slow jazz played from a speaker over which was a family photograph in black and white—two parents, four kids, taken in front of a pretty home with tall trees and a sloping roof.

“It smells great.”

He pulled out a seat at a long table. There was a single red rose in a vase, and the cutlery and napkin had been placed neatly.

I sat.

“No wine,” he said, pouring sparkling water into a long glass. “Plenty last night, right?”

“I agree. Thanks.”

“Pardon?”

I bit on my bottom lip. How far could I push him, and what would the consequences be if I pushed too far?

“Thank you,Sir.” I watched his expression carefully.

His lips tightened a fraction, and his pupils widened. Oh, he liked it. He liked being in charge, being called Sir. It yanked his chain…a lot.

I watched him scoop pasta into two bowls and then set them down on the table. He sat opposite me and tucked in.

“Did you enjoy seeing your mother on her birthday?” I asked.

“I don’t wanna talk about my mother.” He looked at me with his eyebrows raised.

“Oh…okay.” I popped in some pasta—it was perfectly coated with pesto and a sprinkle of black pepper. “So what do you want to talk about?”

“I want to talk about your fantasies, Pip.” He paused and cocked his head. “We fucked, back in that hotel, when you asked me to ‘fuck that man out of you’ but that didn’t really teach me much about you. Hell, we never even got to round two.”

I nodded and took a sip of the cold water. “That was out of character for me, I’m not a one-night-stand girl.”

“It wasn’t a one-night stand, you’re here now and I’ve seen you every day since.”

“True. But I want you to know that’s not me, not how I am sexually at least. I’m more reserved, more considered and usually would be much more involved with someone before I got naked.”

“Because you’re famous and you don’t know who you can trust? If so, I understand that completely.”

“Yes, I know you do, but…” I chewed some chicken then swallowed. “To be honest, that is probably part of it, and why it suited me being with Steven, he was in the same boat, same industry, but even if I wasn’t famous I’m not…I haven’t…” God, I didn’t know how to say it. I’d only ever been vanilla, I had no experience with kink or calling someone Sir or giving up control, or having my clothes ripped off and pinned against a wall.”

“Ah, I see.” He directed his fork at me. “I understand now.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, one of his rare sexy grins that went to his eyes. “And I know what you need.”

“And what’s that?”

“It’s easier to show you.” He pointed at my meal. “Eat up.”

My stomach clenched, but I was hungry so I carried on eating. I searched for a conversation but discarded them all.Dylan was clearly thinking of sex and pleasure and wouldn’t be distracted.

After we’d eaten, he poured us more water and changed the music to something classic that I recognized but couldn’t name. He stood, looked at me for a moment, seeming to see right through my clothes, then moved to an easy chair in the corner.