She sat on his bed in the cool room bathed in morning light, with a mug of coffee in her hands. The digital clock on his nightstand read 8:30.

            “Good morning,” she said.

            He blinked a few times, then squinted up at her. “Good morning. Are you okay?” His voice was deep with sleep and, she guessed, surprise.

            “Yes, fine.”

            “Good.” He quirked a brow. “Did you lose your way to the bathroom?”

            “No. I brought you coffee.” She set his cup down on the oak nightstand next to his bed.

            “I see.” His confusion was not waning. “Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”   
                   She looked down at the white oxford cloth shirt that clearly belonged to him. “Uh huh.”

            “And where did you get it?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

            “The floor.”

            “My floor?” He reached for his coffee.

            “Uh huh,” she said, looking around. “You should pick up your things.”

            “Thank you, mom.” He sipped from the mug of steaming brew. “Where are your clothes?”

            “My room, probably.”

            “Then why are you wearing mine?”

            “I got cold.”

            “You got cold?”

            “Uh huh.”

            He scratched his head. “May I ask what you were wearing when you came in here?”

            “You may.”

            He chuckled. “Okay…what were you wearing when you came in here?”

            “Nothing.”

            “I see.” His mouth curled into a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If you’re looking for trouble, Delaney, you’ve come to the right place.”           

            She smirked right back. “You go to church, Lieutenant?”

            He arched a brow. “No.”

            “Well, you’ve got a steeple growing under your sheets.”

            His eyes narrowed into slits, then darkened. A lock of hair fell over his forehead, and the dim light of the new morning played off the angles of his face, and off the ridges of his toned chest and arms. The sheet that covered him twitched periodically. A dark quilt lay on the floor at the foot of the bed. The furnace hummed as it came awake for the first time. The fire from last night and the masculine smell of a newly awake man invaded her senses. His full mouth invited her in—on the joke, for the kill, or for a kiss; she was not quite sure. She awoke determined to kick-start…something. She didn’t know what. She questioned now the wisdom of early-morning thinking.

            “What are you doing, Ro”

            “I—I brought you coffee.”

            He stared at her, and then his face changed. “You want me to fuck you, Delaney, because I can do that. I can pull you into this bed, part your sweet legs and split you in two, take you to a place you’ve never been before, and that’s a guarantee. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it. If that’s what you’re after, then say the word, and I’m there. But, if you’ve come in here to toy with me, see how nuts you can make me, then sit back and smile because you’ve won your little power trip for the day, then we’re going to have a different discussion, and it’ll be one you won’t like.”

            Crimson heat shrouded her body. Her mouth dropped open, and she snapped it closed. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

            “Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s what you need.” A mixture of lust and fury etched his face. He sat up, his legs stretched out in front of him, his back ramrod straight. “You’ve been begging for a spanking since the day I met you. Maybe it’s time I gave it to you.”

            “I beg your…what?”

            His hand shot out and caught Rowan’s arm just above her elbow. Her eyes flew open in shock. She tried to pull away, her coffee sloshing in her free hand, hot liquid burning her knees and staining his shirt. He tightened his grip on her arm, and they locked eyes. A gamut of emotions raced through her brain, then took the usual detour south—anger, fear, embarrassment, lust; it was all there.

            “What, you’re taking umbrage now? You are not a teenager, and I am not a boy. You came in here looking for something, and now you’re going to get it. Either way you decide to roll is fine with me, but we’re going to roll. Now, decide.” He paused, piercing her with a stinging glare, lust and anger etched on his face. The notion she’d had that maybe not making the first move on a man like him had been the right notion, came crashing to reality at his words. “In here with me, or I’m going to turn you over my knee and blister your bare ass. I’m not playing. Time to put up or go over.”

            “You’re insane,” she said, her voice sounding hoarse and weak.

            “No, lady, I’m quite sane.” Then his voice dropped an octave and a few decibels. “One…two…”

Her heart stopped thumping and fell to her knees. It wasn’t as if she’d never imagined cozying up to him, because she had. He was so beautiful, especially now, with those blue eyes on her, so intense and intent on getting what he wanted. The man spoke his wants and needs as if they were a given, that to deny him this was something he probably couldn’t imagine. It was called hubris, and he had a ton of it. A man like him could be dangerous, yet she felt no danger from him. She knew that if she agreed to go with him, she would be in his bed by dark, and it would mean something to her. She felt like it would mean something to him, too, yet she had no way of knowing that.