Free Letting Go by Maya Banks

matched those toes.
    “I don’t know how to take this . . . this change in our relationship. I’m off balance. Just yesterday I was planning to let go of you much the way I had to let go of Carson. And now . . .”
    She lifted her hand in bewilderment and let it fall back to her lap.
    “That wasn’t happening,” he said mildly. “You may have thought you were getting rid of me, honey, but I’m not going anywhere. I would have waited for as long as it took, but there was never a question of me making a move. You just happened to make it first.”
    He watched her process his declaration, the brief furrow of her brows as they knitted in consternation. As though she was still trying to understand everything he’d dumped on her in the last twenty-four hours. And then she lowered her gaze, effectively putting an end to her silent contemplation.
    She dug into her waffles and he watched, savoring her enjoyment over the breakfast he’d prepared for her. She ate as she did everything else. Artlessly. No self-consciousness. She was a woman unafraid to show her pleasure over even the simplest things. And he intended to bring her a hell of a lot more pleasure than waffles for breakfast. He had in mind a hundred ways he wanted to spoil her.
    “Now, you wanted to know how this works. What exactly do you mean?” he asked.
    Her fork stilled in midair on its way to her mouth. Then she lowered it, licking her lips in agitation.
    “You have to know, I mean you do know now, that I’m completely new to this. I told you the things I wanted, but you haven’t told me what you want. How you expect this to work. What you’ll want of me. What you’ll do to me.”
    She shivered as she said the last, and he hoped she was imagining all those things he’d do to her. And that those images intrigued and aroused her as much as they did him.
    “I think the question is, what do you want me to do to—with—you.”
    Impatience flared in her eyes, an emotion he was well acquainted with.
    “Dash, please. Don’t play games with me. This is important.”
    At that his expression became utterly serious. He leaned forward, his gaze boring into her.
    “This is no game , Joss. Don’t think that even for a minute. What I feel for you, what I want to do to you, is no game. Not by a long shot.”
    “Then help me out here,” she said in a pleading tone. “I’m lost without a road map. I need your honesty. I need to know what you’re thinking. I need to know how you see this playing out.”
    “I think,” he said carefully, “that if we are to get into the particulars of our relationship, I’d prefer to do it in the living room where I can at least be touching you when I tell you my expectations and you outline your own.”
    “And what if I don’t know what it is I want?”
    He could sense her frayed nerves. He knew she was precariously close to cracking. No matter his impatience, no matter his urgency to claim what he wanted and had wanted for a damn long time, she needed delicate handling and all the reassurance he could grant her while still remaining firm. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow her to slip through his fingers when he finally had her exactly where he wanted her.
    “You know, honey,” he said gently. “You were clear enough last night. Just because you’re no longer dealing with a stranger doesn’t mean that things change. If anything, you should be much freer and without inhibitions with me. I want to know every single thing that’s going on in that pretty head of yours. And you’ll get everything in mine as well. That I can guarantee.”
    She rose, simmering with impatience—and nervousness. “Then let’s do it. I want to know. I need to know before I make any decisions.”
    He caught her hand, pulling her into his side, wanting simply to touch her as he’d wanted to from the moment she’d entered his kitchen. He caressed her cheek and watched her eyes go warm with pleasure. It was a look he’d savor the rest