I could go somewhere else. Another shop, another mechanic. I could ask my parents for money and they’d give it — but I also didn’t want to deal with my mom holding it over my head, and I knew she would.

In a few months, I didn’t plan on being in Wickeston anymore. I planned to have a career, to move somewhere better than this. Somewhere nobody knew me, where there were no expectations and no grudges. Somewhere I could start over.

Until then, maybe…maybe I could indulge myself.

“Fine,” I said. I folded my arms, smiling smugly when they all looked at me in surprise. “What? Did you think I’d chicken out?”

“I knew you’d agree,” Jason said. “You never could back down from a challenge.”

“Damn right,” I said proudly, shoving myself back from the table. “So when do we —”

“Sit back down.” Manson’s tone brooked no argument. The words felt like a physical force pulling me back, and I plopped myself into the chair instantly. “We’re not done here. We need to go over your limits.”

I blinked rapidly as I stared at him. I’d spent enough time watching BDSM-flavored porn and reading kinky erotica that I’d encountered the idea of hard limits — boundaries around what one was willing to do in a scene. There were soft limits too, things one was cautious about trying, but was willing to do under the right circumstances.

But I’d thought my one and only real-life encounter with all this had come and gone. Messing around for one night had led to the establishment of a safeword, but beyond that, there had been no further discussion.

The fact that we were having one now felt strangely serious.

It felt intimate. Too intimate.

“Is that really necessary?” I tried and failed not to squirm in my seat. “Let’s just keep it open for discussion.”

“It’s always open for discussion,” Manson said. He was sitting directly across from me, and I was finding it impossible to look away from him, despite the uncomfortable intensity of his gaze. “But if one of us wants to throw you in a trunk or tape up your mouth, we need to know ahead of time if that’s something you can handle.”

“Do you have any health problems? Or blood circulation issues?” Vincent said.

“What about allergies?” Jason added. “Do you have any problems with silicone? Vinyl? Latex?”

“Are you on birth control?” Manson said, his eyes boring into me like he could extract the answer from my soul.

“I…uh…” This shouldn’t have been difficult, but I was stumbling over every word I tried to get out. I was a big girl. There was nothing wrong with what I liked. So why the hell did it feel like there was? “I’m not…against…the trunk thing.”