Let go...

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Tristan's face lit up with a dazzling smile and dangerous charm. "An educated hypothesis made from years of careful observation."

"So sure of your skills, are you?" I asked, resting my hand against his thigh and was pleased to feel the muscles bunch and coil beneath my touch. His body, every bit as responsive to me as mine was to him.

Emboldened by this discovery, I glanced down at the contract I held, than leveled my gaze at him. "You said that you wanted an equal, so prove it. If you want me to submit to you, then you have to agree to submit to me, in equal exchange."

He took a moment to think it over, his teeth chewing the inner lining of his bottom lip and those killer eyes of his narrowed speculatively. "How?"

"We rotate. One week here at your place, the next week at mine. While on your turf, I obey your rules. And when you're at my place you'd have to adhere to mine."

He rotated his glass in slow, steady circles. Pensive. "Give and take."

"Just like in any relationship."

"This wouldn't be a relationship."

My smile brightened. "Call it whatever you like: agreement. Collaboration. The bottom line stays the same."

Tristan set his glass down on the coffee table, braced an elbow across his knee. "I'm a man of control. You realize compromising goes against my grain?"

More because my throat was dry than to pause for dramatic effect, I sipped my whiskey before setting down my glass to join his. And mimicked his pose, bringing us closer still.

"If you want me, Shade,"--his eyes deepened at the use of his surname-- "then you won't have much of a choice."

We sat for a moment, face to face, so close I could almost see the subtle haze of shadow across his jaw. He was always smoothly shaved. So pristine. So polished and put together. I wondered what it would be like to see him a little roughed up. A little ragged. Dirty.

Excitement jolted between my legs and I made every concerted effort not to squirm.

"How about a demonstration?"

"I'm not ready to sleep with you."

"Don't worry, Ms. Pierce. I have something more...interesting in mind." Rising, he stretched out his hand. Held it there, waiting for me. I looked at that wide, roughened palm and my body began to tingle in response and wonder.

What would it feel like to have that hand sliding across my skin? Exploring my most sensitive, my most secret of places? And discovering new ones? Biting my lip, I slid my hand into his and rose to my feet, glancing around us apprehensively at what might come next.

"What now?" I looked up at him as he angled his head towards the wall of windows.

"Assume the position."

"You're kidding."

He leveled his gaze then shifted his eyes towards the windows in question. A silent command to echo the previously spoken. Huffing, I did as he asked. I placed my hands to the pane of glass and employed steady, even breaths as he slid in behind me. This time, unlike last night, he was close--body to body--so that I could feel the steady drumming of his heart, so clam and controlled, and the rhythmic flow of his breathing. I focused on that flow, that rhythm and brought myself around to match his pace.

Drawing inward and releasing outward deep and long and slow breaths that made my head a little light, a little dizzy.

"We're going to try something daring," he said. "A test of your willingness to shed control. To obey. To put yourself in my hands. An act of submission. Of release." His voice was tender, soft and whispered against my skin. His hands brushed along my arms, the heat from his palms radiating under the cotton of my blouse until I thought I would burn from just the weight of his touch alone.

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