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under his gaze.
    Those golden-brown eyes were full of desire. And even as she realized it he pulled her closer with a small growl, his erection pressing against her hip.
    She was wet in an instant.
    “Kara . . .” He kissed her cheek, her lips. “I hope you like morning sex.”
    She laughed, turned on her side, and arched her hips into his.
    “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “But tell me, are you sore?”
    “I won’t be sitting comfortably for a day or two, but I don’t mind it. I like it. I feel . . .” She paused, trying to figure it out. “I feel like the soreness is . . . a badge of courage. Does that sound silly?”
    “Not at all. It is. I may have bruised you. Marked you.”
    “Oh . . . I hadn’t thought of that.”
    She twisted, trying to look over her shoulder, needing to see.
    “Does that concern you? Should I have been more careful with you?”
    “No. No, it’s fine.”
    How could she tell him she hoped to be marked? That she loved the idea of it? That she loved even the word?
    He reached for her and turned her onto her stomach, ran a hand over her bare buttocks. “There are a few small bruises.” He brushed his hand over her again. His voice was low, quiet. “I can feel you shiver when I touch you, Kara. When I touch the marks I left on your skin.”
    “I like it. I don’t know why.”
    “I think I do.”
    He rolled her over until she was facing him once more. His mouth was soft and lush. There was desire there. And something else. Something she couldn’t identify, but that beat through her own system.
    “Kara, I should tell you, should probably have told you last night, that I’m more than just into the spanking.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I’m a dominant. A sexual dominant. This is something I practice. I have for years. I didn’t want to scare you off. But I should have been open with you as soon as I found out you had some desire to be spanked. It’s more serious than that for me—not just some bedroom play to spice things up. I go to the clubs. The Pleasure Dome, here in Seattle, in particular. I have friends there. A community. That’s where I met my best friend, Alec, a few years ago.”
    Were they really lying there in his bed, having this conversation? But she was fascinated.
    “It doesn’t frighten me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
    “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Do you have questions about it? About what I do?”
    Where to start? She’d done some reading. A lot, actually. But she wasn’t sure how the titillating fiction she’d read translated to real life.
    “I don’t know very much about what that means, to be a sexual dominant. The kind of person who goes to those clubs. But I’ve gathered from stories I’ve read that it means something a bit different for each person.”
    “That’s true.”
    “What does it mean to you, Dante?”
    “For me it means that I am honest with myself about what my desires are. Desires I’ve been aware of having since I was a teenager, and in odd ways even earlier. There was that small thrill in playing pirates as a kid. In tying someone to a tree. Telling other kids to walk the plank, or whatever the game was. There are a lot of people who are into the BDSM scene who have similar stories. It doesn’t mean we sexualized these things as children, necessarily; that usually comes later. But as I said, that thrill was there all along.”
    “I think I had some of those same experiences early on. I know just what you mean.”
    It was a revelation to her. It explained so much about the way she’d perceived certain things in her life.
    “A lot of people let it end there,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe have an active fantasy life. But for me, it’s something I actively seek out, although I don’t require it.”
    “But you prefer it. To have your sex with some . . . I’m not sure what to call it.”
    “Power play. Power exchange. Because it is an exchange. It’s not simply about me as a dominant, a top,