Unraveled (5 page)

“One more and I promise I’ll move.”

This kiss was tinged with sweetness and a heady tenderness she hadn’t realized he
was capable of, but he’d somehow known she’d needed.

He lowered himself onto the floor next to her.

How awkward would this be when they looked at each other again instead of staring
at the ceiling tiles?

Then Knox reached for her hand. Just that one simple point of contact relaxed her.

After a bit she said, “What happens now?”

Knox didn’t answer right away. “No idea. All of these thoughts keep spinning in my
head, reasons why we should just chalk this up to one of those ‘seemed like a good
idea at the time’ things.” After a moment he sighed. “Why don’t you tell me how you
see this playing out?”

“I don’t know.” She rolled onto her side and faced him. “This isn’t a situation where
we can just be fuck buddies, because we have to work together.”

“And you being what you are, a fuck-buddy arrangement wouldn’t work for you anyway.”

She’d wondered if he’d bring up Mistress B. “No, it wouldn’t. What usually works for
you?”

“I’m good with one-offs, one-night stands, whatever they’re called. But when sleepovers
start to become regular and exclusive, it veers into relationship territory.”

“Is that what you’re looking for at Twisted?”

“I don’t analyze the time I spend there.”

“You should.”

“Why?”

She took a chance and said, “Because it’s not giving you what you need.”

Knox propped himself up on an elbow, facing her.

Shiori locked her gaze to his.

“Don’t do that, She-Cat.”

He’d already put a wall back up between them. “Don’t do what?”

“Play the Mistress card. One night at the club and one kiss doesn’t make you an expert
on me and what you think I need.”

“You’d be surprised by what one can learn in a single night. Or with a single kiss.”
She traced the wide angle of that stubborn jaw. “I dreamed about you last night. It
was disturbing in that . . . the scenario was far out of the realm of possibilities
for us. Or so I thought. But everything changed with one kiss.”

“You talking in riddles again?”

“Perhaps. But only because you are intent on skirting the topic at hand.”

His eyebrows squished together. “The question of whether we’ll be lovers?”

“No.” She didn’t know if she could do this, because he wouldn’t believe her. She sat
up and then stood to gather her things.

“Come on, She-Cat. You’ve got me all kinds of wound up. Are you sorry I kissed you?”

She zipped her gym bag and turned around. “I’m not sorry you kissed me, because it
was as mind-boggling as I’d imagined. But the best thing to do now is to chalk it
up to the ‘heat of the moment’ thing you mentioned earlier and go back to the way
things were.”

“So you alone get to decide that?”

Shiori stared at him. Posture intimidating, eyes angry, teeth gritted. She wanted
to tell him to kneel and she could soothe him, because she knew her touch could do
that for him. But he wouldn’t see the truth of what he was. He’d argue and bluster.
She hitched her strap over her shoulder. “This conversation has deteriorated, as it
tends to between us. So it’s best if I go. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

Knox stormed toward her, trapped her head in his hands, and kissed the breath right
out of her. She didn’t manage to gather her
wits until he ripped his mouth free from hers. He panted against her ear, “Don’t tell
me you don’t want more of that.”

“I do. But you can’t give it to me on my terms, Knox.” She took a breath and a really
big chance. “I’m very good at that one-off, one-night stand thing too. I let men think
they’ve taken the lead when in truth I’ve directed everything to my liking. I leave
them with a smile on their faces, and that’s all they remember. But I know differently—I
know what I need.”

“A lapdog. A man you can crush under your heel,” he practically sneered.

Oh, he had it so wrong, and that sliced through her. Even being around the lifestyle,
he didn’t get it. “I’ll ignore that remark because you’re lashing out without thought.”
Shiori got right in his face. “But be assured if you were my submissive talking to
me that way? I’d lash out too. With my flogger on your ass.” She held her hand up
when he opened his mouth. “Before you piss me off further . . . the mask I wear as
part of my public persona as Mistress B isn’t just a prop; I am that Mistress inside,
every day. I can’t ignore that part of me. It took me a long time to come to terms
with who—and what—I am.”

“Goddammit. There is something between us. There has been since the first day you
walked into the dojo.”

“I agree. I couldn’t put my finger on it, chalking it up to us both being headstrong
and fighting for Ronin’s approval. But the missing piece started to take shape last
night, and today it finally clicked into place.”

“What missing piece?”

Just say it straight out. You can deal with the blowback
. “That you, Knox Lofgren, are a submissive.”

He laughed. “You are a riot.”

“I’m not kidding.” She waited. And watched for the denial.

Anger blazed in his eyes.

Ah. There it was.

“Bullshit,” he spat out. “You just tossed out an allegation with nothing to back it
up besides hope. And there’s no way you can prove it.”

“There’s something between us because the Mistress in me calls to the submissive in
you. You want proof of your unexplored tendency? Fine. You consider yourself a neutral
party at Twisted. If you were Dominant, you’d identify yourself as such. No designation
after what . . . five years in the club? That tells me you’re afraid to admit what
you are.”

He didn’t respond; he just maintained his belligerent posture.

“I have to ask why you stayed until the very end of my scene with the sub. Because
you wanted to see how I acted when the crowd left? If I was a warm Domme, or an uncaring
one?”

“Wrong. I was waiting to confront you.”

Shiori wanted to toy with him. Scrape her fingernail down the V in his gi top to see
if he shuddered in pleasure. “I asked about you after our little talk last night.
Knox, the man who knows how to bring the pain. I find it interesting that you mainly
participate in closed scenes.”

“So?”

“So that tells me that you do what the Dominant wants. Which is a submissive trait.
And lastly?” She pinned him with her gaze. “You
asked
to kiss me, Knox. You knew there was an intimate dynamic between us that had you
asking for permission first.”

Those sharp cheekbones bloomed with color.

She retreated. “Those are just my observations. You have every right to call bullshit
on it. I imagine you’ll be cursing my name the second the door hits me in the ass.
I understand how hard it is when self-discovery doesn’t come from yourself. But I
want us to be able to work together. We’ll run into each other at the club too, so
it’d be easier if we kept a civil tone to our relationship. Will that be a problem
for you?”

He shook his head, but she knew his thoughts were miles away.

She wanted to push, make him talk to her, but she forced herself to walk away. She
made it to the door before she heard him call her name.

“Wait. I have a question for you.”

Shiori turned to look at him. “All right.”

“What were
you
looking for at the club last night?”

“Not a man to crush under my heel. Not a lapdog. Not a slave. Not a whipping boy.
I’m looking for a man strong enough to give up control to me when it comes to sex.”

“Not a twenty-four-seven Domme-sub relationship?”

She shook her head. “That doesn’t appeal to me. I want a man who knows that his complete
submission to me means he’s under my care. His needs are more important than my own.
There’s a connection that ensures the highest level of trust. From both sides. And
with that comes the hottest sex you can imagine.”

“And you can’t have that in a normal relationship?”

“I had a so-called normal relationship when I was married. I didn’t deny who I was;
I didn’t
know
who I was. Once I figured that out, I knew why I’d always been unfulfilled.”

Knox said nothing.

Shiori took that as her cue to leave. But she really wished he would’ve asked her
to stay.

*   *   *

A
submissive.

She thought he was a fucking submissive.

The woman had a screw loose. No doubt about it.

Because of all the ridiculous accusations . . . There wasn’t a submissive thing about
him.

He snorted. He wasn’t a simpering girly man with mommy issues.

She was reaching. She’d seen him in the club as a familiar face, a man who’d watched
her scene with a sub, so she’d come to a wrong conclusion and projected that preference—her
preference for what she wanted him to be—onto him.

So what if he’d asked permission to kiss her. Wasn’t the first time he’d done it in
his life. Wouldn’t be the last.

Him. A submissive.

Like he’d ever kneel at anyone’s feet on command.

Like he’d let anyone put a collar on him and lead him around with a leash.

Like he’d give up control in the bedroom.

He was a fucking man. Men made the first move; men made sure the magic happened between
the sheets and the woman was satisfied. God knew he’d never had any complaints.

No. Mistress B was dead wrong on this one.

Knox was a man’s man. Period.

To prove it to himself, he beat the fuck out of the punching bag.

Then he went home and watched rugby—a real man’s sport.

Then he called Deacon and talked him into hitting the strip club. He paid for two
lap dances. That was him, being in control, asserting his dominance. Being a man.

When his head hit the pillow at midnight, he relived the day.

But it wasn’t the lap dances and the sports machismo that stuck in his mind.

It was that damn kiss. Because for the briefest moment, he felt the pull of her. Not
in his groin, but somewhere deeper inside him.

Knox had no fucking clue what it meant. And he sure as hell wasn’t gonna ask her.

*   *   *

THE
next afternoon Knox was supervising the new trainees for the MMA program. So far none
of these guys impressed him. But they’d paid for the training, so he walked a fine
line between false encouragement and the brutal truth. Maybe he was a softer touch
than Ronin, but he could still get his point across.

A softer touch doesn’t mean you’re submissive.

Where the motherfuck had that thought come from?

And of course Shiori picked that moment to stroll in, looking like some fucking queen
with the regal way she carried herself.

His admiration of her didn’t mean he wanted to bend down and kiss her feet or anything.
All the guys who worked for Ronin and Blue thought she was the shit.

She hadn’t changed into her gi yet. She wore a sexy suit and heels, entirely in professional
businesswoman mode. And he could tell by the way she hung back that she was waiting
to talk to him.

He strolled over, keeping his face neutral. “What’s up?”

“Can we talk in the office about rescheduling some of the instructors?”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you in the office.” She spun on her high heels and walked off.

Don’t run after her. Let her wait. She can’t expect you to drop everything when she
beckons.

Knox stood there with his arms crossed, pretending to watch two trainees swinging
and missing inside the ring.

Deacon sidled up to him. “You and Shiori are at it again?”

“Yeah, well, she can’t just show up, snap her fingers, and expect me to do her bidding.
I got shit of my own to deal with.”

“Like how long are you gonna let these wannabes pay tuition when they can’t fight
their way out of a paper bag?”

“They’re paid through the end of the month. Since there’s a ‘no refunds’ policy, it’d
be fairest to tell them they’re out of the program when it’s time to re-up.”

“I’d agree with that. I’d also like to hash it out on why we’re wasting our time on
these wannabes.” He ran his hand over his bald head. “Does Black Arts need the money
or something?”

“Doubtful, but I’ll ask She-Cat. See if she throws a hissy fit about me questioning
the financials.” Knox grinned at his own joke.

“Jesus. Can you two just fuck already? That’s obviously your problem.”

Knox scowled. “I’m not her type.”

“Whatever.”

Five full minutes later he strolled to the Black Arts offices. Shiori sat at Ronin’s
desk, pencil and Post-its at hand. “What’re you doing?”

“Checking the schedule to see where I can make changes.”

Knox moved in behind her, placing one hand on the back of her chair and one on the
desk as he loomed over her. “Why do we need changes?”

“Because I have to check out a factory Okada is interested in buying. Since geographically
I’m the closest rep, I’ve been selected to make the pitch.”

“Geographically the closest. What does that mean?”

“The factory is in Mexico. The United States is closer than Japan. But since Ronin
took the company plane back to Japan, I have to fly commercial.”

“Poor baby,” he said with zero sympathy. “I thought you quit working for Okada before
you came here.”

Shiori tipped her head back and looked at him. “I left my position in the company,
but I didn’t quit entirely. What do you think I’ve been doing during the hours I’m
not in the dojo?”

He blinked at her.

“Oh, so you assume I’ve been flitting around, shopping, visiting spas, and lunching
with all my friends?”

“Or maybe you were practicing your whip technique?” It slipped out.

“It takes practice, as I’m sure you know. But I am required to work for Okada, according
to the terms of my visa. Since I’m going out of the country, we need to shift some
instructors.”