I studied him, wondering how well he even knew himself. “That’s not the whole story. Something in him spoke to you. You liked the idea of being the morally ambiguous baddie that everyone fantasizes about. You wanted to know what it would feel like to inhabit his head.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“No, Mr. Chase. Most of us want to know what it would feel like to inhabit his bed.”

I gathered my thoughts, reminding myself I was a professional. “We’re going to start by focusing on the physicality of dominance since that’s what will be critical on screen. That’s what will make or break the authenticity of your performance.”

“Physicality. Got it.” He grinned, glancing at the spot where our knees were touching and he was clearly already exerting his dominance, awakening that instinct in me to submit.

I needed to focus or this wasn’t going to work, so I jumped up and moved far into the center of the open space.

“We’re going to start with a fundamental way power has been exchanged between couples for centuries.”

“Spanking?”

“Dancing.”

He snapped his fingers and followed me to the center of the room.

“Lucas Steel isn’t a guy who asks permission. He rules with a sense of entitlement and takes what he wants, using his powers if he must, but most of the time he doesn’t even need to. There’s nothing tentative about him. The way he moves should reflect that.”

“So what, we do a tango and I push you around the dance floor and somehow that’s going to teach me?”

I chose not to get riled by his mocking tone. My methods were effective no matter how ridiculous they seemed to him. “We’re working on two things tonight. One is trust or this is never going to work. I’m not going to explain the other because the point isn’t for you to think. It’s to feel.”

I set my purse down against the wall and pulled a bluetooth speaker out of it, putting that on the floor too and starting a playlist.

When Alex heard the opening notes of the music, he said, “Ah, not a tango after all.”

“A waltz,” I confirmed. “You may want to put some shoes on.” I nodded to his bare feet and my stilettos.

“I wore flip-flops.” He grinned. “Next time give me a heads-up if an activity requires specific footwear and I’ll come prepared. You could just take yours off.”

“Not happening.”

He shrugged. “I guess we just upped the stakes of this whole trust thing then.”

When I was back in front of him, I asked, “May I?” When he nodded, I reached up to place my left hand on his shoulder. He took my right hand in his left and placed his other hand on the small of my back, pulling us into a flawless dance frame.

Being this near to him, feeling the strength of his shoulder and the warmth of his hand had more of an impact on me than it should have. He’d rolled his sleeves up, baring forearms corded with muscle that led to giant hands. Hands that had me thinking unprofessional thoughts.