Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 79061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
His smoldering gaze roamed her body, as if he was already thinking of ways to make her cry out—-
Lane hastily took a sip of her milkshake. Gosh. Why did it feel like the place had suddenly become hot? She focused on the swirls of liquid in her drink, and without his heated gaze to distract Lane, the question she most needed to ask slowly came back.
“Does being a masochist really mean I’d be whipped and, well, be on the receiving end of pain?” When Angelo didn’t answer right away, she couldn’t help looking up—-
His lips curved, as if he had only been silent to make her worry.
Oh!
Her toes curled at the sight even as she protested, “Stop teasing me, I’m being serious!” Lane wasn’t sure whom she was more irritated at – Angelo for always wanting to keep her on her toes, or at herself for actually feeling like that smile of his had been a reward.
“But I am being serious, too, tesoro. That was my way of making you realize the kind of masochist you are.” Before she could answer him, he had reached for her hand across the table, and she nearly jumped in shock.
“Most of them think it’s all about the physical pain, but it’s not.”
“Umm...” Lane could barely understand him. She was too busy trying not to swoon at the feel of his fingers twining with hers.
“A few of them are...different.” Angelo continued playing with her hand, alternating between stroking her knuckles and tracing random lines on the back of her hand.
She strove hard to concentrate on his words, but it was impossible. Gosh. Oh gosh. Her body was on fire, and her pulse was leaping madly at every leisurely stroke of his long, graceful fingers.
“Like you.”
His gaze cast a spell over her, and completely enthralled, she could only whisper dumbly, “Like me?”
The barest hint of a wicked smile slashed his lips. “Yes, my Lane. You’re different from most. You’re the kind who crave emotional torment, the kind who like being made to beg, forced, and blackmailed.”
When he finished speaking, weaving a spell so much darker and harder to resist, she could only surrender to it, saying dreamily, “Yes, I’m...”
No, wait.
What had he said?
Lane instinctively jerked her hand out of his hold, stiffening in her seat. “What did you say?”
He leaned back with a smirk. “You heard me.”
Most times she wanted to kiss him, but at that moment she had a surprising urge to slap his smirk off his too-beautiful face. She said fiercely, “I’m not an abuse victim waiting to happen!”
“I know that.” His smirk disappeared, but his voice remained calm as he continued, “And it’s where you’re wrong. Masochism isn’t about abuse at all. That’s just how people who don’t understand it twist things. It’s like what I said earlier, tesoro. Sadism and masochism is merely a form of pleasure, a specific way of making one feel good. And for masochists—-” He shrugged. “Pain is the stimulus for pleasure.”
That was it? She gazed him uneasily. “You make it sound so simple—-”
“Because it is.” Again, he caught her off guard, leaning forward as he reached for her face. “And you believe me, don’t you?” His gaze captured hers as he ran his knuckles on her cheek.
Every cell of her body came alive at the contact, and Lane’s eyes involuntarily drifted close to savor the feel of his touch. “Yes...” And then she realized what was happening. Her eyes flew open, and she said accusingly, “You’re making me say things again!”
He pulled away with a shrug, a gesture that was infuriatingly and effortlessly sexy at the same time. “Mi dispiace, tesoro, but is it my fault if it’s in you to obey me?”
She turned red and tried to hide her dismay behind a glare, sputtering, “So now I’m not just a weird masochist but a Sub, too?”
Another shrug. “Usually, those two come hand in hand, yes.”
The urge to hit him returned with a vengeance, but it was also accompanied by an equally strong urge to bang her head against the table. Dear God, was she really a masochist and a Sub combined?
She looked at Angelo, and the words were out before she could stop them. “Are you telling me the truth? Am I really both?” She expected Angelo to make a joke out of it, but instead his gaze became inscrutable.
“Do you trust me to tell you the truth?”
“I...guess.”
“Then...do you also see that by trusting me, you’re acting like a Sub entrusting herself to a Dom?”
Her eyes widened.
He said gently, “And that’s your answer.”
Lane’s mouth opened and closed.
She reached for her milkshake and saw that her hands were shaking.
Gosh. Oh...gosh.
She was not just a masochist but a Sub, too.
Lane looked down at the table.
Angelo’s gaze narrowed at the way Lane was suddenly staring at the table with utter fascination. Surely she wouldn’t—-