Giving In(35)

Her heart sped up, thundering in her chest. “You said what you were after had nothing to do with physical submission. What does that mean?”

He ran his fingers through her hair, his hands returning to her face as he caressed and stroked over her skin.

“What it means is that I would never act out any of the more physical aspects of dominance and submission with you,” he said gently. “Have I ever? Yes. I’ve been involved in dominant/submissive relationships with other women where I employed the physical components that sometimes accompany such a lifestyle. But I would never ever demand of you what you can’t give. So when I say that what I’m after has nothing to do with physical submission, in effect what I want is your emotional surrender.”

“I don’t know what that means,” she said in a low voice. “But it sounds scary. Perhaps even scarier than physical surrender.”

He nodded solemnly. “It’s certainly more powerful. A woman can give of her body and never share her heart or her soul. A very hollow victory indeed. But a woman who surrenders emotionally to the man who has her care in his hands is a very precious thing. And that’s what I want from you, Kylie. Your emotional surrender. Your trust. Your heart. Your soul.”

“Wow,” she whispered. “You don’t ask for much.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling from his chest. Then he kissed her forehead again. “You’ll get there, baby. Just breathe. Don’t overanalyze it. Just breathe and go with it and know I’ve got you.”

She nearly toppled off the stool when he released her to walk back around and resume dinner preparations. Her pulse was racing and she was light-headed. A heady, euphoric feeling took hold, replacing her earlier panic and worry.

She took a steadying sip of the wine and tried not to let how rattled she was show.

Several minutes later, Jensen opened her oven and slipped in the casserole dish. He set the timer and then turned back to her.

“Let’s have another glass of wine in the living room while we wait for dinner to finish cooking.”

She slid from the stool, hoping she didn’t face-plant. She felt giddy and a little silly around him, like a teenager crushing on the quarterback. But then what did she know about such feelings? She’d never experienced them before because she’d never allowed herself to.

He waited for her at the end of the bar and held out his hand for her to take. She slid her fingers through his, enjoying the firm imprint of his hand against hers. They walked into the living room and then simply stood there, hands still entwined.

After a moment, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist then lowered their clasped hands between them once more.

“Dinner will be ready in half an hour. Would you like to start the movie now or wait and watch it from start to finish after we eat?”

“We can wait,” she said breathlessly. “No reason we can’t sit and wait, right?”

“None at all,” he said in smooth tones.

He led her to the couch and sat, tugging her down beside him.

She was out of her element and she well knew it. She had no idea how to hold cutesy, flirty conversations. What was she supposed to say? Or do? Did they just sit here and stare at each other?

She glanced sideways at Jensen, looking for some clue, but he seemed perfectly content to sit next to her in silence. Several long, painful minutes ensued, the awkwardness growing more pronounced with each passing second.

“Maybe we should wait in the kitchen,” she hedged, uncomfortable with the quiet that had descended.

He glanced at her, his gaze indecipherable. It wasn’t warm like she’d become accustomed to. Just seeking. Had she committed some dating faux pas she was unaware of? God, she hated this. Surely there were rules or something.

“Look, uhm, you should know I really suck at this,” she said lamely.

Amusement glimmered in his eyes. “Breathe, Kylie. Like I told you before. It’s all right. We can go back into the kitchen if that makes you more comfortable. Why don’t you set the table and I’ll check on the progress of the chicken.”

Relieved to have something to break the awkwardness, she eagerly rose and headed back to the kitchen. Jensen’s hand on her shoulder stopped her just as she reached the bar.

“Relax, okay?”

His voice was soothing and as gentle as his touch. Her shoulder sagged beneath his hand and she turned.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I told you I suck at this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t date. I don’t know how this is supposed to work.”

He put his other hand to her shoulder and pulled her carefully into his embrace. He tucked her head beneath his chin and simply hugged her. It baffled her that such a mundane thing as a hug from this man instantly calmed her.