She ventured a glance upward. “I’m not scared, not for my safety at least.”

He nodded, pleased to hear that she at least trusted him on some level. He let go of her hand, giving her some space to speak whatever was on her mind.

“There isn’t much that makes me nervous. Hell, ask Max. I’m sure I’ve taken years off his life with my thrill seeking. I’ve skydived, played tackle football with dudes twice my size, been on a roller-derby team. I’ve probably had more concussions and broken bones than many pro athletes.” She gave him a wan smile. “But this is so far outside of my realm, it makes all that stuff look like cake. I look around at the women here, and I feel like I come from a different species.”

“I assure you, you don’t. I checked you out thoroughly the other day.”

“Very funny. I’m just worried I’ll spend these two weeks completely embarrassing myself.” She looked down at her discarded shoes. “I can’t even wear heels without tripping.”

Her bottom lip jutted out in frustration, creating an unintentional pout. He had an urge to sink his teeth into that plump pink flesh. She was so damn cute when she was annoyed. “That only takes a little practice.”

She gave him a yeah, right look. “I’m not even sure why you agreed to do this. There’s obviously no shortage of women around here willing to, uh…service you or whatever. Every time I speak your name it’s like I’ve mentioned some goddamned rock star.”

He snorted.

Amusement lit her eyes. “What? I’m serious. I think some of the girls are planning to make I Heart Grant T-shirts.”

She drew a heart shape in the air between them, while batting her eyelashes in an overexaggerated imitation of his so-called admirers.

He smirked, loving that she had no filter. Thought to mouth. He wondered if that’s the real reason her bosses were reluctant to put her on the air. Nothing like live TV and someone who isn’t afraid to say exactly what’s on her mind. Could be disastrous.

It was going to get her in trouble as his sub as well, but he couldn’t help looking forward to administering the fun consequences. “First of all, you wouldn’t be servicing me, you’d be subbing for me. Different animal. This isn’t prostitution. Both parties get equal benefit in this arrangement.”

“Right. So I get the benefit of earning the right to service you?” she said, her sarcasm about as subtle as a tractor-trailer.

The waiter stopped by the booth and upon hearing Charli’s words, simply laid down the escargot appetizer, gave Grant a new drink, and disappeared.

Grant took a sip of his club soda, amused. “That is a great benefit, but no. What you get is, well, that can be different for each person. Most subs would say they find freedom in the role.”

She eyed the appetizer and frowned. “Freedom? By being someone else’s slave?”

“Being a slave in this world is a bit different that what we’re doing. Though I know slaves here who would say they’ve never felt free until they found their master.” He grabbed one of the tiny forks and put a snail on a toast point, making sure to get lots of garlic butter sauce with it. He held it out to Charli, who took it reluctantly, then made a matching bite for himself. “But you never wonder what it’d be like to have a true break from everyday life? To not have to make any decisions or pretend to be something you’re not? To wake up and know that all you have to do that day is let someone else take care of anything you may need?”

She sniffed the toast, examining it. “I’m thinking I could accomplish that with a trip to Barbados and an attentive waiter.”

He laughed. “Yes, but could that waiter teach you how to wow those horseshit-for-brains bosses of yours with your feminine charm?”

She popped the escargot into her mouth and mumbled “no” whilst chewing.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” He took his own bite and watched the flare of rebellion flicker over her expression. He lifted an eyebrow, daring her to challenge him, but to her credit she held back her natural instinct to lash out.

Her eyes narrowed as she took a sip of water. “That wasn’t a mushroom, was it?”

“Snail.”

She winced. “Fabulous. Maybe a warning next time, cowboy.”

“You could’ve asked me what it was. Did you like it?”

She grabbed another piece of bread and dipped it in the sauce, skipping the snail. “Yes, but they could probably pour this butter sauce on your boot and it would make leather taste good.”

Hmm. Visions of Charli putting her lips to his shoe drifted through his mind. He smiled. Maybe she’d come to know exactly what leather tasted like before their two weeks were up. “That can be arranged if you’d like to test the theory.”

She coughed, half-choking on her last bite of bread. “Shit. Everything I say around here is going to get me in trouble. You’ll never catch me kissing any guy’s shoe.”

He leaned forward and put a finger to her lips. “No cursing. Unless we’re in bed, then it’s fair game. New, refined Charli is going to know how and when to speak like a lady.”

Her lips pursed beneath his finger.

“In fact, any time you slip up, you’ll earn a punishment of my choosing.”

She tried to bite his finger, but he pulled away in time. “I have a feeling I’m going to be spending most of these two weeks in time-out.”

“Oh, my punishments will be much more hands-on than putting you in a corner,” he promised. “And much more effective. Though, based on how you reacted to the belt the other day, I have a feeling you may enjoy that part.”

She didn’t have a pithy response this time. Instead, she took a sudden, deep interest in her open menu. But he knew she wasn’t deciding between steak or fish when a soft pink crept up her neck and found its way to her cheeks. My, my, maybe his little reporter had more of an appreciation for pain than he thought.

The sight had him wanting to skip dinner altogether. What exactly was she thinking about? Was her body warming at the thought of him disciplining her? Of him putting his hands on her? Because his temperature was certainly rising. Or was she simply embarrassed by the conversation?

She was such a puzzle. Coarse and hardheaded, beautiful and awkward, intelligent and driven. Anyone who met her would see right away she was a woman in charge of her life. But there, underneath all that, seemed to be something so vulnerable and innocent. Fragile, even.

And that had him both hungry for her and damn terrified.

Because if he could tear through all that other stuff, get to the core of where that glimmer was coming from, he was afraid he may not want to take her collar off when two weeks was up.

And there wasn’t much he wouldn’t try in this world.

But permanent wasn’t in his vocabulary.

TWELVE

Charli could barely focus on chewing her fish. Why was she so damn jittery? It was as if her blood had been replaced with Red Bull. She’d thought she could hold her own with Grant. She’d even managed to banter with him at the beginning of dinner, despite him looking so damn hot in that suit of his.

But as the conversation had gone on, she’d felt the shift in their dynamic. Like tilting a water table, the power had rolled over to him. He corrected her posture, her bad language, the way she kept tugging at the low-cut bodice of her dress. He was subtle about it, but she didn’t miss the significance. She had agreed to put herself in his hands. To be his…property.

The thought was still too much to wrap her head around. She’d spent half her life wiggling out from under her father’s and brothers’ crushing overprotectiveness, and now here she was giving the power over to a guy. Maybe all those concussions had caused some brain damage.

Grant glanced at her uneaten dinner, frowned. “Did you read through the contracts I sent you?”

Boy, had she. Some of the items listed in those papers had made her eyes pop…and others had made her body stir—even if the whole idea of a contract felt sort of clinical. She set her fork down and tried to drink some iced tea, hoping her voice wouldn’t croak when it came out. “I did.”

“Did you add any hard limits to mine?” he asked, his tone as casual as if they were discussing whether the Cowboys would make it to the playoffs this year. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers.

She’d looked closely at his limits. Most had been things related to The Ranch’s rules and safety. He’d also included his medical test results and had her verify hers. The only one that had stood out was that his sub was not allowed to stay at his cabin. She would be provided her own space.

Even though she knew this wasn’t a real relationship and hadn’t been expecting overnight cuddling or whatever, seeing it in black and white had still stung a bit. She decided he needed a little poke as well. “Yes. I added one.”

“Oh? Pray tell.”

“No sex.”

Mr. Cool Cowboy coughed, set his glass down. “Excuse me?”

She grinned, pleased that he looked so distressed. Maybe she still had some power in this dynamic after all. “Kidding. I’m so new to this, I’m still not sure what my hard limits could be. I didn’t add anything to yours.”

He didn’t look at all amused by her little joke. He pulled his napkin from his lap and set it next to his plate. “Charli, I’m starting to wonder if we’re making a big mistake here.”

She paused, her fork hovering over her plate. “Wait, what? Come on, I was only messing with you. Don’t be so uptight.”

“This is not me being uptight. This is you trying to snatch back some control of the situation.” He pushed his plate aside and set his elbows on the table, leaning forward. “Tell me why you’re doing this.”

She set her fork down and shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under his unyielding gaze. Had he answered when she’d asked him the same question? She couldn’t remember what his response had been if he had. “You know why. I need to learn some things. Be more refined, as you put it.”

His frown deepened. “You could learn that in one of those manners classes people give for debutantes. Why are you agreeing to give yourself to me?”

She fiddled with the edges of the napkin in her lap, wracking her brain for an answer. Why was she doing this? Yes, she wanted to learn to be more feminine. But he was right; she didn’t need to be someone’s submissive to do that. Was it simply because she was attracted to him and knew this was the only way he had relationships?

No, she may have not had a lover in a while, but she wasn’t desperate. She’d long ago learned how to take care of her own sexual needs. She was better at it than any guy had ever been. Well, until the other day in the kitchen. She’d never get that kind of orgasm on a solo tour. But still…

Why this?

Grant reached out and put a knuckle beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Charli, I need your honesty here. I don’t want to take this any further until I know where you are with this.”

She nodded, attempted a small smile, failed. Honesty, huh? Fine. What did she have to lose at this point. “I’ve had three relationships in my life. The first in high school with a cornerback who was happy to relieve me of my virginity, but not so keen on telling his friends he was sleeping with the team’s ‘chick kicker’ instead of a cheerleader. Another early in college with the guy who is now my boss.”

Grant frowned. “Your boss?”

“Yes, Trey barely counts because it was more a friends-with-benefits deal. And the benefit really wasn’t that grand. I ended it a few months after it started. The last one was with a guy I met at the gym. It was…fine. He ended it to go back to his ex-wife.” She blew out a breath, her dating history even more depressing when said aloud. But if they were going for honesty, she was going to give him all of it. “The number of times I’ve actually been able to enjoy sex with anyone? Maybe four.”