“All right, well, take a deep breath, bake your muffins, and walk into that retreat like you belong there.”

“Will do.”

But she knew the words were still a good percentage bravado. She was skilled at playing roles, at being whoever she needed to be when the situation called for it, but she knew if anyone looked too hard, they’d see the frayed edges, would see that she didn’t belong.

She just had to hope to God no one would take the time to really see her.

The guy sleeping upstairs had already seen far too much. She prayed he’d keep his promise and not treat her any differently now that he knew. She didn’t want to be Fragile Girl on this trip. She wanted to be his sub. A little fun. A little training. A lot of sex.

Which is exactly why she’d hopped out of bed so quickly this morning when she’d woken up and realized they’d slept next to each other all night, spooning. Waking up in his arms had felt too damn good, the urge to turn over and cuddle too strong. This was not supposed to be about lazy mornings in bed.

She set her phone down and slid the muffin tray onto the stove to cool. She couldn’t put the drizzle of white chocolate on them yet or it’d melt off. So she went to her purse to pull out the little notebook she’d bought on Melody’s suggestion. She turned to the first page and began to write.

She was still scribbling a few minutes later when Wyatt strolled into the kitchen, all tousled hair and wrinkled pajama bottoms. “And I thought I was an early riser.”

She stared at him for a moment, the contrast to his normally super-polished look hitting her like a punch to the gut. Man, how could this version of him be even more knee-weakening? It wasn’t fair. How was she supposed to keep things cool and casual when her body had some sort of pre-wired, lose-your-shit response to him?

“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.” And felt you curled around me naked and warm and too damn tempting. “So I figured I’d make us some breakfast.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever woken up to such a delicious scent.” He walked over to her, dimples showing, and pulled her to a stand, making her wonder if he was referring to the muffins or her. Lord knows she’d buried her nose in his pillows absorbing his morning scent—soap, fabric softener, and that spicy undercurrent of man—before climbing out of bed. She’d only slipped on one of his dress shirts and a pair of panties this morning, but the look on his face said he appreciated the outfit. He tugged her by the front of her shirt and hauled her against him. “But I was looking forward to having you for breakfast, Ms. LeBreck. Imagine my disappointment when I rolled over to a cold bed.”

Her heart lifted at the fact that he wasn’t all puppy eyes and Are you okay? after her revelation last night. His tone and expression were pure sex, served up hot. She slid her hands up his bare chest, her body quaking with awareness at his nearness, his warmth. “I’m sorry. I figured you’d want to sleep in, and I didn’t want to risk waking you.”

“Mmm, thoughtful. But unnecessary.” He nodded at the notebook sitting on the table. “What are you up to?”

“Just making a few notes for the trip,” she said, the lie rolling off her tongue like an automatic reflex.

“How diligent of you. But that furrowed brow you had is way too serious for so early in the morning.” His hands drifted down over the curve of her ass, causing her to wince ever so slightly. “Are you sore?”

“A little, but not in a bad way.” Her rear had been tender when she’d first sat up this morning, but the effect had been anything but unpleasant. To her own surprise, she’d gone hot and bothered in an instant at the sensation, at the memory of his hands on her.

“I have to say, when I woke up without you next to me, I was a little worried I’d scared you off.” His warm palms spanned her waist beneath the shirt. “I know you revealed more about yourself than you planned to last night. And I was harder on you than I’d originally anticipated being for our first time together.”

She looked up at him, finding his expression a little guarded, tentative. Like he was half-expecting her to scamper right out the door. “I’m not going anywhere, Wyatt. Last night was good, really good. Yes, you surprised me. I didn’t think you’d be so . . .”

His gaze was heavy on hers. “So what?”

“So all in,” she said, searching for the right words. “When you said you didn’t do this anymore, that you could put it aside, I figured you had just done it as kinky fun in the past. You know, played around with it. I didn’t expect—”

“Yeah,” he said, releasing a breath and reaching up to touch her face. “I didn’t know how it would go either. But it seems the door is either wide open for me or locked tight when it comes to this. And being around you busts that door right down. I need to know you’re okay with that.”

She licked her lips. A few days ago, that probably would’ve scared her off. Part of her had anticipated being able to hold on to a little control, to manipulate him a bit. But when he’d turned down her offer to finish the blow job, she’d realized how seriously he was taking the training. He’d wanted her to finish him off, and she could see the need painted all over his face. But she’d earned a punishment, and he wasn’t going to let her take control by using his own pleasure against him. So, he’d set aside his needs and had taken the less pleasurable route to remind her of her mistake and her role. It was the move of a seasoned dominant. It had scared the hell out of her. And had also soothed her in some undefinable way.

He’d put her first. No guy had ever put her first.

“You’re very good at it,” she said, being honest but dodging his question about how she was feeling.

He pushed her hair behind her ears, his gaze tender. “And I thought you were beautiful already, but you’re breathtaking in submission, Kelsey. Like punch-me-in-the-gut gorgeous.”

She glanced down, her cheeks warming at the compliment. She was used to guys telling her she was pretty or sexy or whatever. She’d heard every version of male bullshit imaginable while working at the strip club. But somehow, the way Wyatt said it made her believe he wasn’t simply talking about her ample rack or how she looked naked. “Thank you.”

“So I didn’t scare you, huh?” he asked, lifting her chin upward.

Yes. But not in the way he feared. And even if her mind was yelling at her to run, to hide from this man who seemed to get under her armor so easily, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Even now, all she wanted to do was touch him, be touched, have him command her body in a way no one else ever had. “I want to be here, Wyatt.”

His mouth curled upward, pure pleasure in his eyes. “Glad to hear it.”

He leaned past her and set her closed notebook down on the chair, then shoved the bowl of pears on the kitchen table over to the edge, almost sending it crashing to the floor.

He grabbed her waist and guided her toward the tabletop. “Lay down, love.”

She glanced back at the long wooden table. Her lips parted to question him, but the singular look in his eyes didn’t leave much room for interpretation. “Yes, sir.”

She scooted onto the table and lay down, leaving her calves hanging over the edge. Without a word, he tugged her underwear off, then came around to the other side and helped her pull the borrowed shirt off, leaving her bare in the daybreak sunlight filtering through the windows.

When he made his way back to her lower half, he guided her ankle to the corner of the table and wrapped soft material around it. She pulled in a breath.

“I should be more prepared,” he said almost to himself as he secured her ankle to the post. “But I don’t have any cuffs that will work with the legs of this table. So this shirt and a kitchen towel are going to have to do. Does that feel too tight?”

“No, sir,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.

“Good, girl. Now reach out and grab the edges of the table. If you let go, I’ll find something to tie your hands as well.” She did as she was told, her temperature climbing from simmer to steady burn as she lay there for him. She hadn’t been bound by anyone since Davis. If anything should trigger her fear, this should. But none came. This was on a different planet from being tied against her will with those painful zip ties, and her body registered that fact immediately. This was sexy and fun and so . . . fucking . . . hot. Wyatt bound her other ankle, leaving her spread wide and exposed for whatever he planned to do with her. Once he rose to his full height again, his hot gaze swept over her naked form, and amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Now this is a beautiful breakfast.”

He gave her knee a quick squeeze and then headed back toward the stove. She’d made a pot of coffee already, and he turned his back to her for a moment, fixing himself a cup like he had all the time in the world.

“Uh, sir?”

He peeked back at her, a naughty boy smile. “Yes, love?”

“Did I do something wrong?” Was this her punishment for getting out of bed without asking him if that was okay?

“Of course not.” He poured a dash of skim milk into his cup. “But I spend every day of my life with a packed-to-the-gills schedule. This morning is about indulging. And right now, I want to take my time indulging in you.”

She swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat. “Oh.”

He took a long sip of his coffee, keeping his eyes on her. “So tell me about these muffins.”

A quick laugh bubbled out. It was the question he asked her each morning in the restaurant. Only she’d never had to answer him while naked, flat on her back, and about as turned on as a person could be. She cleared her throat, preparing her specials-of-the-day voice. “They’re orange macadamia nut with a white chocolate drizzle. Well, they will be once I get around to drizzling them.”

“Sounds delicious. Your baking is going to be hell on my strict eating regime, Ms. LeBreck. All this temptation. I’m not usually one to indulge, but I find it hard to resist when you’re around.” He picked up the little bowl of melted white chocolate she’d set on top of a hot mug of water to keep it warm. “Is this the drizzle?”

“Yes, sir.”

He set down his coffee and dipped a finger in the chocolate, then brought it to his mouth, tasting. “Mmm, that’s amazing. What’d you add to it?”

“Orange zest. It’s even better on top of the muffins.”

He raised an eyebrow and grabbed a whisk from the carafe of utensils next to the stove. “Is that right?”

She couldn’t answer as she watched him stir the mixture slowly, then draw the whisk above the bowl so that little ribbons of the chocolate ran off the whisk and back into the bowl. The wicked quirk of his mouth told her everything she needed to know.

He strolled her way again, the front of his pajama bottoms showing signs of his growing interest in breakfast, and set the bowl next to her. His hand caressed her hip, sending hot goose bumps marching across her skin. “Last night was going to be about your pleasure. About me discovering how you liked to be touched. But you tried to steer the ship instead.”

Her tongue darted out, swiping across her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Shh.” He pressed his finger to her mouth, the remnants of the chocolate sweet against her lips. “You accepted your punishment beautifully last night, so no need to apologize again. But now, it’s my turn to get what I wanted in the first place.”

He lifted the whisk from the bowl and held it over her chest. Warm ribbons of chocolate drizzled down, coating her nipples and sliding down over her breasts. Her neck arched, the sinful sensation racing straight downward, heating everything in its path, and settling between her thighs. The scent of orange hit her nose. Wyatt smiled and drew the whisk over her belly, leaving a swirling splatter pattern of glossy white chocolate in his wake.