“That’s a deal-breaker for you,” he said, feeling a hint of anxiety as the knowledge broke.
After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. “Yes.”
Drew couldn’t help thinking she looked sad. Recalling her obvious—at least obvious to him—reaction to being tied up, he wondered what her history was. He was distracted from pursuing it, however, when the waiter returned with his credit card. It wasn’t until they were safely in the car again, pulling away from the curb, that he returned to the subject.
“So I have a question for you. About your deal-breaker.”
“All right.” The wariness in her voice warned him to tread lightly. “You never answered my question, actually.”
“I know. When we were at that party, when I tied you up, I heard the comments about how you weren’t into that. But I was right next to you. I could feel your pulse under my fingers. I could see your reaction. And it was not the reaction of a girl who wasn’t into it.”
“Oh?” From wary to frosty in nothing flat.
“I’m just curious. It didn’t add up.” Eva had turned so cold he was tempted to crank the car heater. Drew figured he had nothing more to lose at that point. Might as well go for broke. “You say you’re not into it, but you surround yourself with it. You run a private art gallery in a small town. You could hardly find a more vanilla setting, but you invite a fair number of artists you know are involved in BDSM whether it’s reflected in their art or not. As far as I can tell, you’re good friends or at least close acquaintances with practically everybody in the local kink community. You agreed to let yourself be tied up for that photo, and it was glaringly obvious you enjoyed it. In that way. So what’s up, Miss Godfrey? What’s your deal?”
A few seconds of pained silence later, he chanced a glance over at Eva. She was still staring at him in shock, eyes wide as saucers. Her lips parted slightly, and Drew had to drag his eyes back to the road before he could become distracted. He’d had a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to kiss the look right off her face. To warm her up, lips first.
Crap. I should apologize.
“Um. Look, I—”
“Did it ever occur to you,” she said in a tiny, strained voice, “that I might have had a bad experience?”
He didn’t even look this time, just started glancing toward the shoulder, searching for a place to pull over. Eva didn’t comment. She sat and stared as he eased over to the side of the road and brought the car to a halt.
“I am so, so sorry,” he started, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture of her hand.
“Don’t!”
He caught her hand and held it in both of his, taking his seat belt off and turning to face her.
Then things got confusing for a while.
Drew remembered the sensation coming over him again, of needing to kiss her, of wanting to fold her into his arms. He remembered the shine of tears, and then the thing that was his undoing, the tiniest tremble of her lower lip. It was pink. It looked soft.
It tasted like wine and apple pie a la mode. Which, Drew decided, was the exact taste of heaven. When he laced his fingers through her hair, he was surprised at how warm she was. Surprised, too, when she tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer, angling her head back and making a sweet offering of her mouth. He took it, curling his tongue between her lips, nibbling and sucking until he fell into a happy delirium of frustration and delight.
When they finally broke apart, he noticed her lip was no longer trembling, although his hands seemed to be. They were framing her face. When had that happened? Eva’s hands were entwined in the fabric of his dress shirt. She wasn’t crying anymore.
His cock was straining to get closer to the source of the happiness, and Eva looked so flushed and breathless and mussed all of a sudden. It was mind-blowingly hot. His lips moved faster than his conscience.
“I’m not in that demographic.” It was more than half a lie, and he was old enough to know he was stupid to say it.
She stared at him for a few seconds then her gaze flicked away to the window. “I need some fresh air. Do you mind?”
“What? Oh. Not at all.”
He nearly ran around the car in his haste to open her door, as eager as a teenager on his first date. And suddenly feeling about as unlikely to get past first base, judging by the wave of shyness that appeared to sweep over Eva when he offered his arm.
It had started to snow, a light fall of powdery white. The night was crisp, and very cold. They had parked near one of the university’s two large fountains, and the soft splash of water was a strange contrast with the silent snow.
“I know, I know,” Eva said as she brushed the fine, powdery stuff from the creamy cashmere of her overcoat. “Now I look like a real, live ice princess.”