Can they go from being ‘just friends’ to Dom and submissive?

Honey Jacobsen and Sabin Northrop have been dancing around each other for nearly a decade. He is a rich and powerful ‘businessman’ and she, a struggling writer.

They are as different as day and night, yet she has loved him for an eternity, realizing they can only be friends. She just isn’t his type.

Or is she? Late one night, he reveals his true feelings for her, and it is not as her friend. He desires to be her lover and her Dom. When he accidentally discovers her submissive tendencies, that’s all it takes for him to make her his.

Publisher’s Note: This steamy romance contains a theme of power exchange.

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Honey felt those callused fingers drawn over her collarbone then down the insides of her arms, to meet again at her sternum as they each cupped a breast at the same time. This time his touch was less tender and much more possessive as her nipples were discovered and pinched firmly at the same time before being rolled like some gnocchi between his thumbs and the sides of his forefingers.

Her eyes had drifted closed as soon as his touch had become more intimate, and there was no way that she could exert any control at all over the sound she was making, although she knew she would probably regret her lack of control later.

“Jesus Christ, you’re perfect,” he breathed against the underside of one breast.

She opened her mouth to protest—as she automatically would any kind of compliment—but closed it again, earning a chuckle from him.

“I knew you were trainable.”

He was being deliberately provocative, she knew, and gave him a fierce glare.

“Put your claws away, kitten. They are no defenses against me, nor should there be.” She wasn’t sure if he was teasing her or not, and his tone gave no clue.

Suddenly, she found herself on her stomach as he straddled her thighs, both hands held at the small of her back by one of his.

Damn—she hadn’t realized just how vulnerable she was going to feel when she was like this with him. But her worrisome little mind was easily derailed from that stressful line of thought when his hand came down across her cheeks with a tremendous crack.

Honey reared up, as much as she could, and kept rearing up as his hand continued to descend, delivering searing swat after swat to a backside that had been thoroughly sensitized and made just that much more vulnerable to his ministrations, by the hot shower.

“Sa-bin! Ow! Stop! No! Stop!”

She hurled herself one way and then the other, she tried to twist and turn, hoping to wrestle herself from beneath him. But none of her efforts yielded any kind of advancement whatsoever. Absolutely none. She was exactly where she’d started, while her backside was being most thoroughly roasted, the most thoroughly—and expertly—roasted it had ever been.

This was a man who knew exactly what he was doing. Now, finally, she would utterly agree with everyone else’s assessment: this was a very dangerous man! Especially to her, at this very moment!

The swats, she was barely able to notice, began to come less often, although they were delivered with much more force, so as to compensate for the fact that they were fewer in number.

She was quite sure that she felt it just as much as she would have if he had given her lighter, more frequent smacks—although she wasn’t much interested in making that comparison. Ever, although she also knew that she wasn’t likely to be offered a choice about it, either.

He didn’t seem like the lenient type—concerned and caring, yes. Surprisingly so. But lenient? No. She’d have to bet against that, from personal experience!

There was no doubt when the spanking was over—sometimes, with some men, there was no clear delineation. But that was not so with Sabin, apparently, at least not this time.

After the last swat—that she didn’t know was the last swat—he rolled himself to one side, taking her along with him, leaning back against the headboard with her on his lap, the both of them still distractingly naked.

Then he cradled her in those freakishly long and strong arms of his, holding her very tightly and using the side of a thumb to brush the tears from her cheeks.

Her eyes nearly filled with even more tears when he breathed quite reverently, “Oh my God, I’ve wasted so much time with you! How have I not done this before? Spanking you is…” He, a man with one of the best vocabularies she’d ever encountered, sputtered to a stop there, unable to finish his thought.

Honey colored prettily at what she knew were his heartfelt compliments. He didn’t give them often, but when he did, he was absolutely sincere. But she couldn’t just say nothing about them. They were too glowing—too much. “Stop! You don’t have to say that.”

His hand immediately found one very sore bottom cheek and squeezed as he growled low in his throat, imbuing it with no small amount of scolding—so much that it had her contracting involuntarily at his words, “I know I don’t, little one, and I think we’ll have to work on you naughtily thinking that you can tell me to stop.” Honey had to suppress a groan at that. “But it’s the truth. I’m not an effusive man, except where you’re concerned, apparently. I don’t think it’s ever felt quite so right to me to spank a woman, and I’ve spanked more than my share.”