Overview

When’s the worst time to realize my roommate’s domination turns me on? While I’m trembling in pink lace panties...

Losing a bet to Cole Mercer was a spectacularly bad idea. I just hadn’t dreamed his devious pay-off would be to dress me down to nothing—literally—until every last trace of masculinity is gone. Lace, lipstick, lingerie… the works.

But why does this humiliating game feel warmer every morning? Why do his stinging commands and careful manhandling send heat spiraling through me instead of shame? I shouldn’t like the way he calls me his girl, shouldn’t crave the slide of satin or the slow, claiming rhythm of his body against mine.

And I definitely shouldn’t want him to pin me to a hotel-closet wall and make me prove I’m his—mouth, heart, and all.

I’m straight—at least I was.