Teach Me. Caitlin Crews

appeared to like that even less.

      Which he could admit he liked a great deal more.

      “I guess… I guess I thought there would be more of a buildup. This feels a lot like going from first to fourth gear in about twelve seconds, doesn’t it?”

      “Erika.” Her name made her shiver, then still. “If this isn’t what you want, I will escort you to the bar. You can have as many nonalcoholic drinks as you like, perhaps dance to the music, and feel exhilarated that you were this close to so much edgy deviance. We always expect a certain number of tourists on nights like this. There’s no shame in it. But you need to tell me what you want.”

      “I want…”

      “If you don’t know how to say it, you can start the conversation very simply.” He tilted his head, indicating the ground beneath her feet. “Simply kneel.”

      She moved her hands to her belly, as if her stomach was knotting up. Or fluttering. Or any other of the lovely, delicious reactions she could have been having.

      She shot a glance behind him, almost wistfully. But Dorian didn’t move.

      And in that moment, when she pulled her gaze back to his and her cheeks got even redder, Dorian had to ask himself what it was he wanted. Did he want her to kneel? Or did he want her to break, flip out and prove that she had come here only on one of her bratty excursions calculated to irritate Conrad more?

      It was more than a little confronting that he didn’t quite know the answer.

      Liar, something in him whispered. You know what you want.

      As if she heard, Erika blew out a breath.

      And then, as Dorian watched, his best friend’s little sister sank to her knees on the floor before him, tilted up her face and surrendered.