You like it.
Archer’s words shoot white-hot embarrassment through my body – mainly because he’s right. Despite myself, I do like it when he bosses me around. I get hot when he goes all Alpha on me.
I absolutely hate myself for it, but it’s true.
Not that I will ever admit that to him, though.
“You are out of your mind,” I tell him.
The corner of his lips lift into a telling smirk. “Don’t lie to me or to yourself.”
“Why would I like it when you always treat me like dirt? It makes zero sense.”
“I don’t treat you like dirt.” He lowers his voice again. “But maybe you’d like it more if I did.”
“Why would anyone want to be treated poorly?” I want an answer, so I can explain it to myself. By all rights and reason, I shouldn’t want him to bend me over his bench while he drops to his knees
