He sighed. “I feel so misled. So used.”

She chuckled. “Shut up. You wanted to be friendly, I’m inviting you into my house for a shared meal. That’s about as friendly as I get.”

He had the feeling Nat wasn’t kidding. Such a prickly thing. Though amicable and respected at work—he knew because he’d discreetly asked around—she didn’t seem to have many visitors. No tight friends that he could tell, though she seemed chummy enough with Freddy. Nat exuded an all-work, no-play vibe clearly visible at the office and in her obsessively organized home.

The neatness all around smothered him, and he had an overwhelming urge to muss the stack of magazines on her coffee table. Something to shake her, to get her to drop those repressive walls and share her inner desires.

He resisted the urge and followed her into the kitchen. He accepted the beer she poured him, raised his glass and clinked it against the one she’d poured for herself.

“What are we toasting to?” she asked.

“To a heavenly extra cheese pizza. I’m just hoping you didn’t order sausage or mushrooms. I hate them.”

Her evil grin made her that much cuter. “Oh, I ordered pizza with all the fixings.”

“Monster.”

“And a small calzone in case you were picky.”

“Thank God. You might be civilized after all under that Yankee veneer.”

She snickered. “Y’all lost the war. Get over it already.”

“Sugar, I was talking about your God-awful taste in baseball teams.” He nodded at her shirt.

She flushed. “Oh.”

He laughed. “So tell me, how can an intelligent woman root for a team so miserably bad?”

“Bad? I think you’re confusing us with the Braves.” She argued win-loss averages over the years, battings statistics and ball team history like a pro.

Rex fell more under her spell. If it turned out she watched Formula One too, he was going on one knee and offering to marry her, on the spot, no questions asked. Except at mention of Formula One, she frowned.

“Oh, those weird looking race cars? Not my thing.”

So no marriage proposal tonight then. He’d keep that in his back pocket for later.

The pizza arrived, and the stubborn woman refused to let him pay. Instead, she watched him dig into the calzone with a knife and fork, shaking her head at his attempts to neatly consume greasy food.

“Such a prima donna. Just pick the damn thing up and eat it with your hands.”

He cringed. “My momma would die on the spot.”

“She won’t know.” Nat huffed.

“She will. You don’t know Sue Samson. Woman has a second sight. Always knows when I’m doing without manners.”

“Then she must be cringing constantly.”

He laughed. After a pause he asked, “So how is it an uptight woman like yourself, who doesn’t allow a speck of dust to linger in her house, has an issue with me using silverware to eat a pizza?”

“Did you just call me uptight?”

“I believe I did.” He had the satisfaction of watching anger turn her gaze from green to dark brown.

He thought she might finally admit she’d been the one behind the mask at the club that night, to show how not uptight she could be. But then she relaxed and shrugged. “So I’m uptight—I like my job. I work in an office where they eat their young. I can be gruff and deal frankly with subordinates, but step one foot out of place when it comes to not being a lady, and I’m out on my ass. A dichotomy I’m not fond of.”

He frowned. “You make way too much out of fitting in at work.”

“Do I?” She poked him in the shoulder. “Do you know why the last urban planner was fired? For doing his assistant. And the mayor’s last secretary was urged to leave because someone found out she was gay.”

“Who? Old Abby Denton?”

“Yep.”

He laughed. “Honey, Abby wasn’t gay. She lived with her elderly sister. She wasn’t fired either. She quit.”

“Not what I heard.”

“The last mayor fooled around with city money and was let go. Jessup might be a philandering ass, but he’s a by-the-book kind of guy in the office. A lot like you, only not as pretty.”

“Oh, that’s mean. Comparing me to the mayor like that.”

He shrugged.

They continued to banter as they finished the six-pack. He didn’t know when he’d enjoyed an evening more. He just wished he knew how to break through her fun yet distant barrier. She laughed and made eye contact, but he could tell she kept a piece of herself tucked away. That sensual dynamo festering just under the surface.

“I’ll do dishes,” he offered when he realized the evening had wound down. Nearly eleven, and they’d done nothing but argue, tease and argue some more.

“We’re eating off paper plates, genius.”

“And paper napkins,” he reminded her. “Like I said, I’ll do dishes.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a smile.

Wishing he could stretch out the evening longer but knowing he’d do well to leave before he made the mistake of kissing her again, he cleaned up the kitchen and prepared to go. He’d have to rethink how to get her to admit to her fantasies. Some more sex at the club, maybe? He’d have Freddy tell Nat that R had asked for her. Then he’d tear off his mask after making her come and show her the truth. Maybe that would work…if it didn’t backfire terribly.

“I had a great time.” He searched for his keys. He could have sworn he’d left them on the counter.

“Looking for these?” She dangled his keys from her finger and stood by the door.

“You’re a slick one.” He walked toward her, but as he tried to grab his keys, she pulled them back.

“Uh-uh.”

He raised a brow, intrigued by the heat in her eyes. “Hmm. You holding me hostage?”

“Something like that.” She dropped the keys on the floor and gripped his shirt to pull him closer.

“Um, Nat?” His voice had grown embarrassingly deep, his arousal impossible to miss.

“You want to leave, you have to pay the toll.” She practically purred the challenge, and he wanted nothing more than to ask his mistress for permission to please her.

“Toll?” Hell, if she moved any closer she’d find herself pressed against that enthusiastic part of him demanding she take notice.

“A kiss, Rex. A kiss for your freedom.”

“What if I like it fine right here?”

“Then a kiss to stay.”

He smiled, relieved she’d finally made her move. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

Nat had lost her mind the minute he’d walked through her door wearing that killer grin. Rex made jeans look like formal wear and filled out his Polo like a magazine model. He should have been too slick for her taste with that Southern boy charm. Instead, he made her laugh when she wasn’t drooling over his impressive arms and chest she was dying to try to wrap her arms around, inch by solid inch.

For hours she’d enjoyed herself, knowing she could have him if she wanted. Just a taste, a sip of his lips. Or more. He and R were the same person. She could feel it.

Why not take what she wanted, a nibble of desire, enough to hold her over until she got the courage to hit the club again? Even though she knew getting too close to her fantasies was dangerous, that taste of power when commanding R and J had seduced her into wanting more.

But not from R or J. From Rex. She wanted to own him.

She recognized an answering need in him too. And Lord love her, she wanted to give him—them—what they both wanted. Why deny their chemistry? She could have sex and not go too far into a D/s fantasy, couldn’t she?

Admitting she’d been with him at the club was still an unnerving prospect, because that meant exposing a part of herself she’d made a rule to keep hidden. Play happened behind closed doors, with faceless men she’d never see again. Telling a lover the truth about her needs had never worked before. Why try now and risk not only a broken heart, but losing her dream job too?

Just regular sex, Nat. Don’t get greedy. She could do this, play the casual lover with a man she’d come to regard as someone special.

“A kiss, hmm, Ms. Wielder?” Rex moved closer. “I thought we were just friends.”

“Friends about to fuck,” she said bluntly and yanked him to her. Tired of waiting, of fantasizing about him as much as she dreamed about R, she planted a kiss on him she wouldn’t soon forget.

Unlike most men, Rex didn’t try to overpower her. He moaned into her mouth, and his compliance pushed her to take more. Let go, let him take charge, she tried to tell herself. So she angled her head to give him better access, letting him take the lead, and nearly cried in disappointment when he accepted the challenge.

Rex backed her against her door. He took control, kissing her with demand.

Except…instead of turning her off, their role reversal turned her on. There was something forceful yet hesitant in the kiss, as if he waited for her approval, giving her exactly what she wanted without her having to ask. Crazy, but she felt it, especially when he trailed kisses down her throat and sucked at her neck.

She twisted beneath him, aroused and aching, needing to be filled. She gripped his cock through his denims and had the satisfaction of hearing him hiss with pleasure.

“Yes, Nat. God, that’s good.” He nibbled his way to her ear and whispered, “Tell me how to please you. I want to make you feel so good. So fuckin’ good. Mistress…”

Yes. She knew it!

Her breath hitched when his fingers dug under her shirt and made circles on her belly. Then his hand inched between them, under her shorts and panties. He stroked the V between her legs, coming close, but not close enough, to her throbbing clit.