Destiny's Chance by Cara Bristol

“Sorry. Just had a ringing in my ears.”
    “Maybe you should tell the doctor. When’s your follow-up appointment?”
    “I’m sure it’s nothing.” Just a touch of schizophrenia.
    She moved her rice around on her plate. Tell Chance or don’t? If by some miracle he believed her, she’d end up a loser because she wasn’t the woman he wanted. She remembered the way they’d made love, the emotion and the tenderness he’d given thinking he was with Zoe. She thought of the surprises hidden in the secret chest, remembered the tingles when she’d tried them out, imagined how much better it could be if someone else was wielding the tawse or the flogger. Was it wrong to want to do those things with Chance? Was it sinful to want him? Would acting on her feelings make her a bad person?
    For the first time, she questioned her assumptions. Zoe had died. But Destiny lived, and so did Chance. Nothing she did or didn’t do would bring her friend back. Eventually Chance would find somebody else anyway. Why not her? And even though it wouldn’t lead to anything permanent, what was wrong about a spanky sexual interlude if it brought them release and, for a moment, forgetfulness of the tragedy?
    She was still entitled to comfort and happiness.
    Or punishment. Maybe she should ask him to chastise her for disloyalty and selfishness. Instead of spanking, it would be more like flagellation. She’d bare her bottom, he’d warm her ass with his hand, because she’d heard that was important, and then he’d whip her tender bottom with the tawse. Because she was bad. A terrible friend. Unfortunately, twisting her motivation didn’t hide the truth. She wanted to be spanked, flogged, tawsed for the fun of it, the closeness, the release.
    The heat of shame and desire flooded her from the bottom up.
    “Are you all right?” Chance regarded her, his eyes narrowing with concern. “Your cheeks are turning red.”
    She wished he’d turn her cheeks red. She fortified her decision with a deep breath. “I organized the bedroom closet last week.”
    “Good.” He arched his eyebrows.
    “I opened the…uh…chest.”
    “Ah. We haven’t used that in a while.” He smiled as if recalling pleasant memories.
    Blood roared in her ears. Come on, girl. Grow a pair. Just say it . She licked her dry lips, glanced at her hands, then raised her head and locked her gaze on his. “Maybe…maybe we should use some of those things now.”

Chapter Ten
    Chance’s eyes turned molten. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” he said thickly.
    She’d attempted to do the noble thing, but maybe her assumptions were in error—or maybe she needed them to be wrong—but she refused to give up without a fight. And if it didn’t work, she’d at least have memories and the knowledge that she’d tried.
    A good idea? Time would tell.
    “Yes,” she lied. “I need you to touch me, to hold me, to spank me.” She’d never expressed her desires to a man so openly before. But she withheld the most important piece. I need you . She loved Chance and craved him in every possible way.
    She wanted him when he came home from the shop greasy and dirty, when he woke up with morning breath and morning wood, when he padded around the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel, when his muscles flexed when he did ordinary things like unload the dishwasher or grab a cup off the shelf. When he laughed at the television. After he shaved and when his face grew scratchy again. In the daytime and in the evening. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays and Thursdays and every other day. “I want you…and sex and spanking.”
    “Me. Sex. Spanking.” Chance paused as if her request required consideration. He nodded. “I can accommodate you. When would you like all that?”
    Her tongue seemed to swell inside her mouth, impeding the formation of words. “Now.” Perhaps only one word would be necessary.
    Chance shoved away from the table. “Okay. Let’s go.”
    Stomach fluttering, Destiny rose to