“Really?” She sounded a little unnerved.

“No.” He tossed a grin at her.

It was hard to tell in the dark, but he thought she might have blushed. “I didn’t need to announce that, did I?”

“Probably not, but I can appreciate you wanting to make that clear. Anything else I should know?” It was more than likely a bad idea to ask Imogen to list her sexual taboos, because God only knew what would come out of her mouth, but he wanted to reassure her.

“Well, I suppose there are but it occurs to me that normally those likes and dislikes, off-limit areas, and an agreement on a mutual level of kink are revealed in the bedroom together with a combination of hands-on and verbal discovery, not ahead of time in casual conversation.”

He wasn’t sure he had understood a damn word she’d said. He had pretty much lost all his blood from his brain to his erection when Imogen used the word kink. “Doesn’t matter, babe. We can forge our own path. You want to talk about it now, I’m on board with that.”

Ty pulled onto his street and opened up the engine a little bit. It would disappoint his neighbors if he didn’t fly into his driveway at sixty miles per hour.

Imogen grabbed the dashboard again and held on. “I don’t think I do want to talk about it.”

Glancing over, he saw she was biting her lip. “What’s the matter?”

“I’ve sucked the spontaneity out of this, and I’m annoyed with myself.”

She did look upset. “No, you haven’t. We can go on in and be totally spontaneous. Like whose shirt will come off first? That’s still a mystery at this point.”

Now she was actually chewing her bottom lip with her teeth, frown lines etching into her forehead as they sat in the idling car in his driveway. “That’s not spontaneity. That’s simply variances of an already established intent.”

Say what? “Speak English, babe.” He gestured to himself with his thumb. “Dumb driver here.”

“You’re not dumb. That’s ludicrous. You’re obviously quite intelligent.”

That made him feel oddly humble and flattered. He thought of himself as fairly street smart, but in no way was he book smart, yet it felt good to hear Imogen say she didn’t see him as a box of rocks. “Well, I can’t balance my bank account, but I do alright, I guess.”

“And the reason you can’t understand me is because I’m not making any sense.”

That seemed fair enough to him, but he wasn’t about to point that out. He had learned enough in his lifetime to know that you didn’t point out to a female that she was making no sense. “We’re here,” he said, turning off the car. “Come inside and let’s see if we can make sense of it together.”

“Okay,” she said, but she still looked worried.

Ty was starting to wonder if this was a bad idea. He was looking at Imogen’s face and seeing tomorrow’s regrets written on it.