Don’t look at him, I coached myself. Don’t look. “Would it hurt?” I asked instead, cringing as soon as the words escaped my mouth. I wanted to snatch them out of the air and keep them from his ears or at least bolt for the door before he had a chance to answer, but my feet stayed planted firmly to the ground.
“It would hurt,” he answered, as though our conversation wasn’t completely bizarre. “Spankings are supposed to hurt.”
God, if a shiver didn’t run through me when he said that. I chanced a look at him and saw, to my surprise, that he didn’t look smug or pissed, like I’d half-expected. He still looked like Brody, normal, next-door wonderful Brody. That was what made it so much harder to run away. That and the weird tightness in my chest. “And if I don’t?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Can I spank you for not letting me spank you?”
The playfulness was back and I relaxed a little. “Is that a question?” I’d meant it to sound flippant, but I caught how my voice wobbled and I knew he had, too. “You know what, really, I’ve got to go now.” This time, mercifully, I managed to move my feet and walk toward the door.
He caught up with me in mere heartbeats, stopping me with a hand to my arm. “Not so fast, we need to talk about this.”
“What’s there to talk about?” I asked, my breath hitching at his touch. “I said no. You still remember what that means don’t you?”
“Attitude, Shana,” he growled in a low voice, making me flush hotter. “And yes, your lips are saying no some of the time while the rest of you...” He lowered his hands until he was holding my hips. “Seems pretty unsure to me.”