Do Your Worst

by Rosie Danan

When the next tug on her hair pulled sharply, Riley let out a soft gasp. “Sorry.” Clark immediately relaxed his grip. “I’ll be more careful.” “Don’t bother. I like it,” Riley blurted without thinking. There was a heavy pause. Her pulse began to match the wild riot of the storm pounding against the metal roof. There’s no need to get embarrassed, she told herself, fighting off a mounting urge to panic. So she liked a certain kind of sex. So what? She knew this about herself and had for a while. It wasn’t a big deal. And sure, it required a partner with certain complementary inclinations, but Riley didn’t expect Clark Edgeware to give her what she needed. He was English. His people had practically invented repression. Except he was slowly wrapping the tendrils of her hair more firmly around his fist. “Do you?” The words fell like velvet against the skin he’d exposed at the back of her neck.