“I’m not usually so weird,” Stef said, his voice calm, but she heard the gravity in it.

“Really?” Jen couldn’t help the sarcasm. He was absolutely the weirdest person she knew, and that was saying something. “Let’s see, one, you’re an artist, and a really well-known one. That’s strike one.

Artists are weird. Two, you’re a Dom. You like to spank girls and tie them up, and there are things in that guesthouse that I don’t even know what they’re used for.”

His feet rubbed against her skin. “When did you go to the guesthouse?”

“Callie took me. I was curious. She even showed me where the peepholes and the hiding spots are. Per—vert. As for your third strike, you live in Bliss. You’re out. Just own up to it.”

“I never claimed I was normal, Jennifer,” Stef replied. “But then, anyone who claims to be normal is probably lying or miserable because they don’t know their own natures. Humans are freaks. It’s better we accept it. Are you going to deny that you liked your spanking last night?”

A warm rush of arousal poured over her. “Not on your life. Don’t misunderstand me, babe. I love every freaky inch of you. You might be a complete perv, but I wouldn’t have you any other way. If it makes you happy to sleep at the end of my bed like some crazy stalker, then I’m fine with it, but you could have crawled in with me.” He pulled his feet away, and suddenly his hands cupped her face, and his eyes were a serious, stormy gray. “This is a bad idea, but I don’t think I can stay away from you.” Finally, some progress. She snuggled close and was perfectly happy when his arms crept around her. “I don’t want you to. I never wanted you to.”

“You might after you figure out what I want,” he murmured. His hand stroked her hair as he spoke. “I want to train you. I want a Master/sub relationship. It’s all I can do, Jennifer. For the time it takes to clear up everything, I think we should play together. I’ll understand if you don’t want that. I think we’ll end up in bed either way.” She didn’t want to stay out of bed. And he was fooling himself if he thought all he wanted was a D/s relationship. “I’ve read up on BDSM. I might be a novice, but I know a little something.” His hands were creeping up the tank top she was wearing. “Are you sure? I can be a bit demanding when it comes to play.” He was already demanding. He already pushed and pulled her this way and that, and she wasn’t even getting regular sex for it. “I think I can handle you.”

“So young. So naïve.”

So full of shit. “Bring it on, Talbot.” Something hard flinted across his face. “Fine. Show me your breasts.”

Jen threw the covers off and had that tank top over her head in a heartbeat. The room was still chilly, but the cold wasn’t what had her nipples puckering. She was finally in bed with Stef, and she hadn’t had to force him there.

“And your pussy.”

She pushed the pajama bottoms she had on off, along with the bikini panties she was wearing.

“Spread your legs.”

His voice had lowered a couple of octaves, and it poured over her skin like thick, rich honey. She complied, though it felt awkward. Stef sat up and looked down at her. He didn’t say a thing, just sat there.

His stormy eyes took in every inch of her skin. Jen wondered if she should put on a show, but thought better of it. He was staring at her the way he looked at a piece of art. Just his eyes on her was making her skin heat up.

Why this man? Jen asked herself as she lay still under his considering gaze. Life would be so much easier if she could love someone simple. Stef was beyond complex. He was outrageous, kinky, sexy as hell, and the most loyal man she’d ever met. He’d helped out just about everyone in Bliss. Everyone knew he was the world’s worst sucker for a hard luck story. Didn’t have health insurance? See Stef. He’d pay for your medical bills. When drought had threatened the local ranchers, they didn’t go to the bank, they came to Stef Talbot. When Zane and Callie and Nate needed a loan to start their tavern, they had gone straight to Stef. He really was the king of Bliss, but sometimes he held himself apart. He needed to know that the people he helped loved him, too. Jen was pretty sure he never thought about that.

While Stef stared at her, his eyes fastening on her pussy, she stared back at him. He was a work of art. His jaw was a strong line.

She would use a single, thick brushstroke to capture its stony grace.

His skin was smooth and sun-kissed, gold and tan, blended with cream. His hair was longer than usual, falling just over his eyes in midnight locks. And his eyes. She’d always loved his eyes. They were ever changing with his mood. They went from flint gray when he was angry to a warm, almost misty tone when he softened. When he was aroused, there was a storm in those eyes that always pulled her in.

Her whole body flushed with desire, and he hadn’t touched her yet.

A slow smile creased his perfect face. “Very good, Jennifer. Now get dressed. I want to show you something.” Jen sat up. “What?”

He gracefully rose and stretched his long limbs. “I said get dressed. My father is running around here. I don’t want him to see you naked. He already thinks you’re a felon.” Jen felt her eyes narrow. “I don’t really care what your dad thinks.

What game are you playing that you think you can get me all hot and bothered and then leave me this way?” A low growl came out of his throat, and suddenly his body was pressed to hers. His weight held her down, and the menace in his face did all kinds of things to her heart rate. “I am not playing a game. I am the Master, and you are the sub. That means you do what I tell you to do when it comes to sex, love. I know I can’t expect you to listen to me when it comes to anything else, but I am the Master in this room.

Now, you have a choice to make, accept my will or tell me no and this is done.”

Jen clenched her fists. It wasn’t fair, but this was the way it was with Stef. If she wanted a chance to prove they belonged together, this was what she had to do. In return, he would coddle and protect her.

He would lavish her with affection. The fact that he was willing to cede that he didn’t have the final say outside of sex was actually a win, she decided. She knew that wasn’t the deal with his other subs.

He was in control of every aspect of life during their time together.

She was different. It would have to be enough for now. “I can’t get dressed with you on top of me, babe.” He got up and held his hand out. Jen let him help her up. She tossed on the tank and her PJ pants. He’d picked up her panties and shoved them into the pocket of his sweats.

“You don’t need them,” he said almost defensively. “No panties for you.”

His kinks made her smile. She imagined what he’d do with her underwear. She doubted he would simply toss them in the laundry.

Not her Stef. He’d carry her underwear around with him all day. He wouldn’t pull them out and show them to his friends. He would keep them in his pocket. Every so often he would put his hand in his pocket and caress them and remind himself that she’d said yes. “I don’t need them, Stef.”

He flushed as though her acceptance of him pleased him on a fundamental level. When she was properly attired, she took his hand.

He led her through the gorgeous manor house his father had built. He was silent as he moved from the west wing to the east wing. Jen had spent enough time there to know where he was going. His studio.

Most of the east wing’s second floor had been transformed into the most amazing studio, with big bay windows to catch the early morning light.

“So, you still haven’t explained how you came to sleep at the end of my bed,” she said as they passed the grand staircase.

“I told you, I wanted to check on you. And it’s not really your bed, is it? It belongs to me.”

She chuckled. In Stef’s mind, everything belonged to him. He firmly believed the whole damn town was his. She wasn’t an idiot.

“Well, you shoved me there, so I’ll call it mine. And really, where was I going to go?”

He stopped, his handsome face frowning down at her. “As you so rarely stay where I put you, I will have to decline to answer that. I really don’t know. It could have been anywhere.” Jen groaned, but followed as he continued walking. “Are we going to talk about last night?”

“I thought we had, and really, why bother? We could just read about it in the paper this morning.”

“Is that what’s bugging you? It’s no big deal. Everyone would have known anyway. I was totally going to tell Callie, and she would tell Nate and Zane and…well, she would tell everyone. Really, it just saved Callie a whole bunch of phone calls.” His brows came together in the middle of his forehead. “I didn’t like it. It was private. I’m thinking about sending the health inspector to Trio. I’m also thinking about buying a bunch of rats and releasing them in Trio about twenty minutes before the health inspector gets there.”

“Don’t, babe. Once the Hollister-Wright clan came crying to you, you would just end up paying for the exterminator. Save yourself the expense.”

“Maybe not,” he replied, stopping in front of the door to his studio. “Maybe I’ll tell the bastard to go to hell, and that he’s not welcome in my town anymore.”

“Oh, they won’t send Zane to talk to you,” Jen said. “They are way smarter than that. Callie will come to your door with those sad puppy eyes, begging you to save her livelihood. She’ll talk about her future children who will starve, and it will be their Uncle Stef’s fault.” He moaned a little and then opened the door. Early morning light flooded the studio, a vibrant, clean light that had Jen gasping. Stef had redone the studio. Before it had been stark and masculine, with nothing in it but art supplies. It had been a refuge for him. He’d once said he liked it because there were no distractions. Jen had complained there was no comfort, either.