Free ComfortZone by KJ Reed Page A

playful and languid in the hopes of
some languid, sleepy lovemaking, hardened. “I lead.”
    She blew out a breath. “This isn’t the tango.” When he
raised a brow, she rolled her eyes. “Not that tango. The ballroom tango.
Foxtrot. Waltz. Whatever. Guys don’t have to always lead. I want a chance.”
    He shook his head once. “This is my thing.” He took another
nip at her breast, and she almost let the whole thing go. “Am I not satisfying
you?”
    “You know you are,” she grumbled and twisted again to break
contact. “But I want a turn. Somehow you always end up the one calling the
shots.”
    “I don’t see the problem here.” He kissed her, tongue
delving in to meld with hers. His weight settled more fully on her, the head of
his cock scraping past her clit to rest close to her center.
    She pulled back. “I think that’s the problem.”
    Brice cocked his head to one side. “You just lost me. What’s
the problem?”
    “You don’t see why it’s a problem that you can’t step
back and let me control something for once?”
    He didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle. She groaned and,
with a few interesting and somewhat painful maneuvers, rolled out from under
him. Where were her shorts? There. She grabbed them off the back of the chair
where they’d landed earlier and started dressing.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Making an omelet. What does it look like?” she snapped.
    “You don’t have to leave.”
    “Yeah, I do.” Shirt. Where was her…ah. Shirt on and halfway
buttoned, she looked back up. “You need to figure this thing out. I like when
you take control. It’s sexy. It drives me nuts. It’s your thing. I get it. But
I’m not a wallflower, Brice. I don’t just sit in corners and wait for others to
do for me. I want to lead sometimes. If that’s not something you’re capable of,
well…” She finished the last button with shaking fingers and shrugged. As she
slipped on her flip-flops, she heard the bed creak behind her. She knew what he
was doing. Getting dressed. Even in the middle of a fight, he’d walk her to her
cabin rather than her go alone in the dark. It’s just the kind of guy he was.
    And she could appreciate him for who he was. But she didn’t
always have to like it. This was one of those times.
    “Don’t bother,” she said, knowing it was pointless.
    He huffed as he slipped on a pair of jeans. Her mouth
watered just a little as the denim slid over his butt, as he hopped and shook
to reposition his erection enough to zip up.
    Whoops. Well, that was his problem. He had a hand. He could
fix it later himself, in nice, controlled strokes.
    She could run. Between not having his shoes on yet and still
having to deal with a zipper imprint on his dick, she’d win. It wasn’t all that
far. But that wouldn’t be the mature thing to do. Satisfying, but not mature.
So she waited in silence as he slipped on a pair of running shoes and grabbed a
hoodie before holding his door open for her.
    They walked together, not talking, the muffled night sounds
surrounding them. Feeling like the only two people in the world. It could have
been romantic.
    Could have. If he wasn’t such a stubborn ass and she wasn’t
pissed.
    Yeah, other than that…
    They reached the door to her cabin and she took her key out
from her pocket. “Thanks.” She turned away from him but he closed a hand over
hers before she could unlock the door.
    “Why is this so important to you?”
    “I’m not a follower.” She spoke quietly, for some reason not
wanting to disturb the somber night peace. “That’s just who I am. I can play at
it for a while, but then I need my own chance to lead.”
    He sighed then let go, let her walk into the cabin and close
her door without a word. She rested her back against it, wanting to scream.
    Was this just it? He wouldn’t give up control, ever, and she
wouldn’t be permanently controlled. So they were at an impasse.
    Give it time. The rational part of her said to