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thinking hard.
    “Who’s to say if what you think isn’t justified, I do?”
    “Well, kitten, that’s up to you to decide, isn’t it? But you give me good reason not to have a name for us when we scene, and I’ll abide by it.” He ignored her startled gasp and the way her mouth hung open, until she shut it with an audible snap. “Now, the bathroom is the spare room en suite and it’s the third door along the corridor over there. I’m going to make coffee and hunt out something for dinner.”
    He tugged Shane to her feet and deliberately removed the blanket. He had to pry her fingers open and he chuckled. “I’m a Dom, kitten, cry red or do as I say.” He put the blanket over the back of the sofa. “Remember that.”
    “You’re not my Dom though, Ross Mackie.” She glared at him. She sure did have a good selection of glares and used them to full effect. “So, no dice, mate. I will have a shower, but only because I want one. Get it?”
    He got it. She was arsy and running scared. However, not scared as in frightened, he was sure of that. Scared of her feelings, more likely.
    Her chest heaved. It could be with indignation, but Ross saw the way her skin bloomed with a soft covering of perspiration—not dampness from the snow, not now—and how the pulse at the base of her neck beat erratically. He was experienced enough to notice those signs as indicative of arousal not fear. Although were they not different sides of the same coin at times?
    “I get it, but I wonder if you do?” Ross asked her. He spun her around to face the direction she needed and patted her bum. “Off you go. Coffee will be waiting when you come back. I’ll put clothes on the bed for you.”
    “No corsets,” she said as she sashayed away from him.
    Did she waggle her arse like that on purpose, just to tease him, or was it natural? Ross had very mixed thoughts about that, until as she opened the door to the corridor she waved her fingers over her head and, he swore, giggled in an incredibly suggestive way.
    Minx. Did she not know little subbies who played with fire got their fingers scorched, and their arses tanned? Or did she not care?

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    Shit, shit stupid or what? Do I have a death wish? Remember Pete. However, Shane knew Ross was a different kettle of fish to Pete, and understood whatever she did with Ross would be poles apart from that earlier negative and unhappy experience. The problem was whether she wanted it or not. She accepted she did still have subbie tendencies, and Ross could well be the Dom for her, but was that really what she wanted right now? No, she decided, not until she sorted her past out.
    The bedroom she walked into made her whistle. As a spare room, it was bigger than both her bedrooms at home put together, and a hell of a lot more opulent. Not ostentatious, but definitely decorated with a female in mind. That thought sent a nasty stab of unwarranted jealousy through her. What right had she to be jealous of anything Ross had done? Or indeed still did?
    Lots, if he’s got someone else. That idea made her feel sick. Surely he wouldn’t have, not if he was interested in her? Perhaps in being her Dom? That idea made her pussy tingle and her thighs get damper than they already were.
    Pete, you’re almost history now. Dead, dead and almost buried.
    But, she mused as she kicked off her boots and undid the snap on her jeans, what did Ross truly want? Was he just being friendly in offering to show her around, or was it a prelude to asking her to sub? Shane knew without a doubt she needed to know there and then. Without bothering to put her boots back on, she retraced her steps to the lounge and headed in the direction of music. Surely that would be where Ross was?
    She was correct. The music got louder as Shane approached a half open door at the rear of the long lounge. She pushed it open to see Ross, back toward her, standing by a work surface, singing along—rather tunefully it had to be