"This still isn't me," she rasped. "I don't know who this is, but it's sure as hell not-"
"The woman who told us she ‘doesn't do submissive'?" Rebel filled in.
Her gaze had been melting to a gorgeous milk chocolate shade. It re-hardened inside of two seconds. "What does that have to do with any-"
"It has to do with everything." He didn't let her go, securing her wrist as she dug in her heels, trying to push away. "Especially because it was part of what just happened."
"I'm not going to discuss this." Her tone was rebellious but her stare pleading, especially as she lifted it to Rhett. The move earned her only a pair of raised brows and a nod toward Reb.
"Sorry, peach. I don't have a golden Dom patch, but even I can see he's right-with a pretty huge R."
She squirmed. Rebel held tight. He felt like a complete shit for it, but her waterworks flooded back on, confirming just how big his R really was. "Easy, mon chou. Easy. It's only us. And just to refresh your memory, we both really enjoyed it." He dropped his gaze along with his voice, making sure she felt just how much he meant the words. Enjoyed was the hugest understatement for what she'd given him with her submission, but this was going to require baby steps. Lots of them.
Rhett leaned in with the same message taking over his face. Though his lips were firm, the oceans in his eyes swelled with sensual waves. "You enjoyed it too … right?"
She flung a glare. "I appreciate your respect for my interpretive acting work-but I'm not that good."
Rebel pulled her wrist against his lips. "Actually, you're still enjoying it." He nuzzled her skin with his nose. "Your heartbeat. Racing and ready. You like the fact that we're even talking about it-"
"The hell I do."
"As well as every moment you gave in to it."
Rhett performed the same treatment on her other wrist. "Gave in to us."
"The hell I did." She wrested both arms free. Jabbed them close to her torso then under the sheet, like a kid hiding a stolen candy bar. "I'm not going to talk about this."
Rebel rested back on his haunches. "Well. That's completely your prerogative, Miss Monet."
She huffed. "Oh, it's ‘Miss Monet' now? Turning on the ice water, so I'll coerce you to heat it back up by baring my soul?" Her eyes rolled. "You want to try something that I didn't ace a psych exam on two years ago?"
He teeter-tottered his head before quickly nodding it. "Fair enough. But at least I cared enough to try, considering you've tied my hands against using the method that'll really work here." He settled back a little more, folding his arms. "But that's exactly how you want it, isn't it?"
She wasn't so snappy with her next retort. With hands still rustling beneath the sheet, she pressed, "Fine. I'll bite. What method would that be, Sergeant Stafford?" Slinging the payback on the formality had her preening a little, proud of herself-
Until Reb issued his rebuttal.
"Brynna Cosette Monet … you need to be spanked."
"Pardon the hell out of me?"
"Nothing to pardon." He shrugged, ignoring her stiff spine and plummeting brows. "The lines have clearly been redrawn, so there's no need."
"Lines?" she demanded. "Redrawn? For what?"
"For whatever you now want them to be. That's right, isn't it?"
"I-" If she were on a stage in rehearsal, she'd be the one begging for script help. "I don't know what-"
"But if, hypothetically, I was still acting as your Dom, you'd probably be flat on this mattress now, taking my hand on your ass. A lot of times."
The sheet noticeably rustled. Her lips visibly twisted. Oh, he'd gotten her attention, all right-and likely a little more. And the woman still wanted to deny her attraction to sexual surrender? It made no sense. He checked in with a glance toward Rhett, whose face reflected the same incredulity.
Brynn scowled deeply, though her voice was an unsure rasp. "Wh-why?"
It wasn't hard to preface the answer with a soft smile. "Number one, because you'd like it. Number two, to establish a connection between us of energy and trust, so you'd feel better about opening up to me. And number three, because you'd really, really like it."
Her face tightened again. But more importantly, her legs squirmed beneath the sheet. Little minx. She was clearly hot, bothered, and on her way to being wet again-but there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it except watch. Because, for whatever insane reason, Brynna Monet still "didn't do submission".
"So I like a little bite to my passion every now and then. It doesn't mean I'm a damn submissive."
Rhett reentered the fray with a wry smirk. "With all due respect to every gorgeous inch of you, peach, I've been naked and horizontal with you twice in the last week. Between those two occasions, I've had the fun of pulling your hair, biting your nipples, sucking your clit, zip-tying your wrists, and fucking you senseless, among other pretty good highlights. You know when I've seen that lovely pussy the wettest?" As he asked it, he leaned in, making sure their gazes were level for his whispered answer. "When you begged me for more, sweetheart. When I made you beg me for more."
"When you had to let it all go," Rebel confirmed.
"When you submitted to us."
Her eyes slammed shut. Her body balled up. Rebel had expected the withdrawal, but this was extreme. Her face contorted as if they'd both punched her in the gut.
"I don't care." She huddled tighter. "I can't care."
Rebel bit back a number of Creole words that perfectly fit his fury. Goddamn. If they could only lay her out and redden her ass …
Good thing Rhett was up in her grill right now, and not him. The guy's composure was nothing short of astounding as he gently prodded, "Why?" He ran a soothing hand over her head, not caring about her little flinch. "Why can't you care, Brynna?"
She lifted her head. Leaned a little toward his touch, giving in to a moment of its strength and safety. Rebel was envious. That man and his hands …
Without opening her eyes, she rasped, "Because Enya cared."
Rhett didn't falter his caresses by a beat. "Who's Enya?"
She ducked her head from him. "Enya cared. Now she doesn't."
"But why?" He reached again, but she jerked away. "Sweet peach … you can tell us. You can trust us. It's just Rebel and me."
She snapped her head up. Glared at both of them, the scared kitten instantly grown into a terrified cat. They both watched, bemused, as she whipped the sheet fully around herself. Through every second, Rebel never remotely anticipated her next move.
"I won't do this. I can't do this."
With an acrobatic move only possible for an accomplished dancer, she flipped backward then twisted, escaping over the back of the futon-leaving Rhett and him to gawk at each other in shock more naked than their dicks.
Chapter Thirteen
‡
Two hours later, Rhett paced into the office with refilled water bottles in his hands and a tight scowl on his face. He was showered and changed, his faded BDU bottoms topped by a black T-shirt emblazoned with yellow lettering: Actually, it is rocket science. Rebel looked up from one of the two chairs now parked in front of the computer desk, arching a wary brow-which he decided to ignore.
"She's still sleeping."
Reb chucked a pencil at the desk. Rocked back in the chair. "Because, of course, you decided to check again."
He banged one of the water bottles down. Dropped into the empty chair just as bearishly. "Beats sitting here looking at you."
The shithead leaned back a little more. "Hmm. You sure about that?" He laced fingers in classic criminal mastermind style, a shout-out to every super hero movie they'd seen together-which meant nearly all of them. Trouble was, no Joker or Loki or Luthor looked good enough to jump just sitting in a work-out tank and shorts.
Damn it.
Rebel. Him. Them. He couldn't treat it like a bothersome summer cold anymore, could he? It wasn't going to "just go away" on its own. Every moment of this morning's adventure had sure as hell changed that.
Adventure. Okay, that was a good way of looking at it. Like all great adventures, it had been exhilarating and new, an adrenalin rush not soon to be forgotten. At least not by him. But was that where everything stopped?
The waters in which he still swam-at a desperate pace-said no.