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panties,” he continues. “Then I would remove my belt.”
    I feel the breath tighten in my chest.
    “And I would give you six good lashes with it,” he concludes, taking his martini glass and draining the last dregs.
    I am sat almost open-mouthed opposite him. Can he really be saying those things? Worse – can they really be having the effect that they’re having? Because undeniably, his words have stirred a dark lust deep inside of me.
    I know without any shadow of a doubt that the last few seconds have made me completely ready for him. And from his face, I think he knows it too.
    James raises his eyebrow just a fraction.
    “How does that sound?” he asks.
    I pick up my martini glass and take a solid gulp.
    How does it sound? If I’m honest , it sounds pretty damn hot. But is this the kind of thing I want to get myself into? A man who wants to beat me with a belt?
    I pause for a moment, thinking things over, and I notice a subtle tension creep into him, as though a lot rests on my answer.
    “I think it probably sounds better than it would feel,” I admit.
    He cocks his head, thinking about this.
    “But you do concede that you should be punished for your behaviour.”
    He says it like it isn’t a question, which is a relief, because the truth is I don’t want to answer. I don’t know what my honest answer would be.
    “Let me take you home, Isabella,” he says, and his voice has dipped low. “I will show you how good it can be to submit to a punishment at my hands.”
    I swallow again, feeling trapped by my own lust.
    Part of my mind is in tumult. But over-arcing everything, I am so happy to be back in his company.
    Better than happy, in fact. I feel awake, alive.
    James is watching my face carefully.
    “Come home with me,” he says.
    I have so many different emotions running through me . I catch onto a memory from earlier this evening. I wanted to be dangerous .
    “You can set your own rules,” adds James.
    Ok. My own rules. Can I handle this? I start speaking, hardly knowing what will come out.
    “No belts,” I manage weakly.
    What am I saying?
    James nods slowly. “If that is what you wish.” Without taking his eyes off me, he signals for the cheque.
    “Oh, Isabella,” he says, his eyes lighting wickedly. “You don’t know what you’ve got yourself into.”
    Chapter 7
     
    James’s apartment is dark as we crash through the door, bound in heavy mutual desire. Our journey in the car back was strange, stilted almost, as though James had journeyed to another place in his mind.
    Sat next to him, I had been tossed from fantasising about ripping his clothes off, to a cold terror about what I had just agreed to. But, as he pushes me against the wall of his apartment, every thought but having him is thrown out of my head.
    James lifts me into his arms and carries me to the other side of the apartment.
    Then I see the desk he was referring to, and feel my courage falter.
    Held in his arms, I feel something more tender in him, and he looks down into my face.
    “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.
    I stare up at him, trying to read him, but I see nothing. Everything I know about him turns in my head. He’s troubled. He’s difficult. Can I bring him into the light?
    “Would it make you happy,” I whisper, “to… to do the things you want to do?”
    “Yes,” he murmurs, “it would make me very happy. And I think you would like it too, Isabella. Though you may not know it yet.”
    “Then I agree,” I say, trying to sound braver than I feel.
    He places me gently back on my feet.
    “No belts,” he says, looking carefully into my face.
    “No belts,” I agree.
    He nods curtly, and his whole manner seems to change.
    “You put me through hell today, Isabella,” he growls. “Now bend over that desk.”
    I hesitate for a moment, and he takes hold of me, forcing me roughly over the desk.
    Whoa. He’s serious about this stuff.
    I feel his hand pressing firmly on the small of my back,