Finally, she started to gallop toward Mrs. Fuhrman, who was standing on the stoop with her hands on her hips.

"She's quite the animal," he said, brushing hair, dirt and flowers from his clothes.

"She is. They're all rescues. Mrs. Fuhrman has a big heart."

He heard the woman usher the dogs back inside. On the other side of the house, the lawn mowing resumed.

"About that coffee that you've been so carefully protecting..."

"No one said it's coffee."

"It is," she insisted. "You're a smart man. You wouldn't bring a cup with that logo and not have the elixir of life in it. And it's mine. Right? Tell me it's mine."

How could he not want to wrap up the moon and give it to her? He offered her the cup. "I think it's only half full at this point."

"I don't care how full it is." She accepted it and took a long drink. "You could spoil me. Three days in a row with great coffee?"

"Sorry I don't have a biscotti in my pocket."

"Suzy-Q would have ferreted it out. And, I apologize for the wild welcome. That didn't go quite the way I'd thought it would."

"It was memorable, and I'll be thinking of ways you can top it."

Her mouth parted.

"Show me," he said.

Her eyes darkened, almost imperceptibly.

"Inside. Now."

Their gazes locked. Yeah, she understood, recognized what was happening here, if not on a conscious level, then on an instinctive feminine one.

She finally looked away and turned toward the house. He picked up her shoes for her. They had those little cutouts at the front that would show off her painted toenails. Until today, he couldn't have said that he'd ever noticed anything other than a spiked heel, but these took s.e.xy to another dimension.

Inside, the house was cool, and he took the time to turn the front door lock to keep out neighbors and four-legged friends.

He dropped her shoes in the entryway alongside a pair of running shoes then followed her into the kitchen. "Mind if I wash up here?"

"That's fine. I have a lint roller to clean your slacks and jacket." She put her cup on the counter. "Be right back."

By the time he was finished washing and drying his hands and face, she'd returned, holding out the promised roller. He thought about accepting then changed his mind. "Why don't you do it? An act of your submission."

She hesitated for a second. He saw a hidden doubt in her eyes but then she seemed to come to terms with it. She'd have a dozen objections, he knew. But they were just that, objections, nothing real.

Finally, she nodded.

"Start with the jacket." Now he was glad he'd worn a lightweight blazer, despite the weather. No telling the damage Suzy-Q would have done to a shirt.

Lara, with her entirely unique scent that reminded him of the promise of summer nights, moved toward him.

She looked up at him for a second. He liked the differences in their sizes. It made him feel even more protective over her.

Without a word, she lifted a lapel and rolled the sticky tape over it. She took her time moving to the next.

He enjoyed how deliberate she was. She continued to move over the rest of the material, ensuring every dog hair was gone.

"Pants, too?" she asked, her tone a bit hesitant.

"Yes."

She peeled off the used sheet, wadded it then dropped it to the floor.

With the same kind of dedication as earlier, she began just below his belt. She took more time than necessary around his crotch area. And if she kept it up, he might be taking her here rather than waiting until they were back at his place. Or, h.e.l.l, maybe both.

Lara bent to roll the tape over his thighs, front, inside, then reaching through to the back. In less than a minute, his slacks looked as if they'd just come from the dry cleaners.

"Put down the roller then go get that throw rug," he instructed, pointing to the place in front of the stove.

Without question, she did.

"Kneel on it."

She complied with that stunning grace that so captivated him. f.u.c.k. She belonged there, and by his side, in his life.

"Earlier," he said, "I mentioned that you could greet me properly. Stay where you are," he added when she moved as if to stand. "Hand me the roller." He took it and placed it on the counter. "Many times subs will be on their knees to greet their Dom."

"Is that what you expect?"

He heard the note of doubt in her question. "Not always. But it's certainly a preference. It's hard to deny that it reinforces our roles, though. True?"

"I'm not sure I like it."

"I do." And d.a.m.n, he did. "You have no idea how stunning you look to me. How much I desire you. Do you like that? And be ruthlessly honest with yourself."

She was thoughtful for a moment. "That it turns you on appeals to me, yes."

"That's part of the beauty about submission. You may not enjoy certain things, at least not when you first think about them. But would knowing that you please me also fulfill you?"

"Yes. On some level. But..."

"Let me relate it to you in a different way."

"I wish you would. I'm fighting this a bit, thinking it's ridiculous, wondering what the h.e.l.l I've gotten myself into."

Despite that, she'd stayed in position. "I appreciate the way you're working through your struggle." He thumbed a piece of hair back from her forehead. "I stopped at the coffee shop and waited in line with about six thousand other people, a number of them girls from a softball team and their overwhelmed parents."

"A Sat.u.r.day hazard."

"I didn't mind at all. But it was more than that. Before leaving, I not only looked up your address but also the closest place that was actually on my way. I left early enough to ensure I was still on time so I didn't keep you waiting."

"I'm sorry." She shifted restlessly, but she didn't get up. "Maybe I'm missing your point, but I'm not following you."

"I stopped because I knew it would please you. Today, everything is about giving you a memorable day. My point is this... In any successful relationship, D/s or vanilla, each partner makes tiny sacrifices, does small things, acts of service as it were, because it makes the other person happy. I didn't have to bring coffee. You don't have to look so ravishing. You don't have to greet me on your knees, but it makes me happy, encourages me to think of even greater ways to show you my pleasure."

She smiled. "This is definitely not worse than being with six thousand kids at the local coffee shop. And that location doesn't even have a drive-through, if I remember?"

"I'd stand in the line three times to see that look on your face when you realized I was carrying a coffee cup. In fact, one day I hope that you will smile at me the same way."

"The smile was for you," she rea.s.sured him.

"Nice try."

She grinned.

"Now, to greet me properly..."

"Yes?"

That was exactly the response he'd hoped for. "I'd like you kneeling up, not back."

She'd been resting on her calves, and she straightened her posture.

"Nice. Legs farther apart."

The dress constricted her a little, but she did as he asked.

"Within these guidelines, I'll leave the rest to your discretion. Your hands can be by your sides or on your thighs, but with your palms up and gaze cast down."

She nodded.

"Or, you can link your hands behind your back or neck. Either way, I want you to tip your head back."

"So no direct eye contact."

"Until I speak, no." He heard her breath catch, which told him this was becoming more real to her. "At any rate, I always want your shoulders back. Now show me."

Her motions were a bit unsteady, as if she were concentrating on his instructions, trying to remember and, if he was right, she also had a good deal of nerves mixed in.

She placed her hands on her thighs, palms up, shoulders back, gaze down.

"Couldn't be any better. Now with your hands by your sides."

Just as wonderfully, she did that, as well.

"And behind your back."

It took her a few seconds to remember to tip her head back.

"And now behind your neck."

When she did, he caught his breath. She'd moved aside her hair, and it cascaded down her back. It took every bit of control not to fist his hand in it and, instead, remain at a distance while he acquainted her to his form of Dominance. "What did I tell you about your gaze?"

"No eye contact. Sir."

He walked around her twice, slowly.

Once, she turned her head to follow him, but when he raised an eyebrow, she returned to the correct position. "Good. Now look at me."

She did. Her eye color appeared a bit lighter. Unless it was his imagination, they had a dreamy quality, perhaps meaning that she was surrendering to her internal battle. "You've done this correctly, and the last requirement is that you be nude."

Lara sucked in a breath.

"Show me that."

She blinked a couple of times, looked down at the floor, then back up.

"We can go in the living room if you're more comfortable."

"I'm not comfortable being naked anywhere," she said.

"You'll learn. And don't tarry, otherwise I will take away your clothes when we're at my house."

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh absolutely I would. Your confidence is my aphrodisiac." He offered his hand and helped her to stand.

He held her hand until they reached the living room. The blinds were closed, and it looked as if she'd prepared the house for her absence. The air-conditioning had been turned off, and a bag sat near the door. Fortunately, an overhead fan churned through the heat.

Connor sat on the couch and watched her twist her hands together. He waited, and he'd do so as long as it took.

"Am I allowed a rug or anything?"

"If you're greeting me when I've been out, absolutely. If you're kneeling for my pleasure, serving me perhaps, then no."

"Right now, I mean."

"You tell me."

"Right. No rug."

"Good girl."

"I've never done a striptease before."

"Don't start now. Skip that and go straight to a strip now."

Despite his urging, she took her time, exposing her skin a satiny inch at a time. Finally, when she'd pulled the dress over her head, she draped it over the back of a nearby chair.