Free Reaction Time by Alannah Lynne

TV?
    He moved in front of her and narrowed his eyes. “You’re smiling.”
    She laughed, confident he was merely messing with her head and wouldn’t seriously punish her like a child. “Yeah, I was wondering if you were going to ground me from the TV.”
    His eyes liquefied and became heavy lidded. He brushed his knuckles along her neck and down her arm. “No, what I have in mind for you is definitely more hands on.”
    Linking his fingers with hers, he tugged and began walking.
    She instinctively fought his grip and dug the heels of her boots into the concrete.
    When he turned to face her, his stern expression gave her pause and made her think maybe she should be afraid. Very afraid. He quirked an eyebrow and without an ounce of humor said, “Unless you’d like to receive your punishment right here I suggest you stop pretending to fight me and come on. I’m not much into exhibitionism, but I bet there’s more than one person in this garage area who would love to see you with your pants around your ankles, your bare ass turning pink.”
    She gasped and tried to pull in air but it didn’t seem to be making its way to her lungs. His expression left no room for argument and there was no mistaking his words or intent. He’d do it. Without hesitating for one second, he’d do exactly as he’d threatened.
    A thousand butterflies lifted off in her stomach and an uncontrollable trembling rippled through her body.
    This time when he turned and began walking, she followed—legs wobbly, head spinning to the point of dizziness, hyperventilating with no brown paper bag in sight.
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    Reaction Time
    As her mind raced and adrenaline pumped, questions flooded her brain. When, exactly, had she become okay with this? How many subs did he have? Was she one of many? And if so, why did it bother her?
    Her steps became heavier and she dragged her feet. “How many…women…girlfriends…subs, whatever you call them, do you have?” The words gushed out of their own accord. Damn her mouth anyway.
    He stopped and turned to face her. “One. And she’s the most beautiful, contrary, hard-headed one I’ve ever known.”
    He turned and started to walk again but this time her feet were rooted to the spot. Did he mean her? She certainly fit the contrary, hard-headed part. But what about the hot date he’d had on Tuesday night?
    Her breath caught in her throat and she took a step back. He didn’t mean her. He must be talking about the hot date. And what was she, besides a weekend diversion?
    He’d seemed to want more last night, but the prospect of hot sex could make a man say and do anything. Except they didn’t have sex. Was he simply fucking with her head, getting her to fall for him even though he wasn’t interested in anything more than playing with her this weekend?
    She jerked hard on her hand and it slipped through his fingers. She should be glad he wasn’t talking about her. She didn’t like playing his games anyway. He confused and distracted her when she needed to focus on racing. She should be thankful she’d figured it out now and hadn’t allowed herself to get further involved in his ego trip.
    Why then, did she feel as if she’d been trampled on all the way to her soul?
    Concern and confusion creased his brow as he turned and closed the distance between them. “Nikki? What’s wrong?”
    “I can’t be one of many, Adam. I’m not made that way.”
    He rested his hands on her hips and bent his knees, making them the same height and bringing them eye to eye. “What the hell are you talking about?”

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    Alannah Lynne
    Nikki waved her hand around as if she were shooing flies, or shooing off his handsome face and bottomless eyes. “I was never good at sharing, you can ask Nate. I’m possessive of my toys, my cars and my—”
    “Yoo-hoo, Nikki. Over here.”
    Nikki and Adam simultaneously turned their heads toward the very Southern, very prim sounding voice.