Inside, the trunk I emptied of rocks sits at the foot of the bed, waiting for our take. I drop the sack in and close the lid. Set my hat on the dresser.
Alice smooths her robe. “That went well.”
I give her a stare from hell, raking my fingers through my hair. “You walked out there half dressed.”
She blinks, all innocence, fighting that damn smirk again. I close the distance, hands clapping hard to her waist. “Slip’s damn near see-through. Huggin’ every curve. That bastard’s ears turned red as a beet, and I near put a bullet in him for starin’.”
Her lips twitch, but she bites it back. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“It worked, but you put yourself on display to do it, and that’s a line you don’t cross without payin’ a price.”
A flush creeps down her throat. “Kodiak?—”
I sit on the bed and haul her across my lap in one motion, robe sliding with a hush against me. Heat from her thighs sears through my trousers.
“You knew what you were doin’—paradin’ yourself in front of that man, lettin’ him near choke starin’ at you.”
Her answer comes muffled in the covers. “It was part of the act.”
I yank up her slip, baring her pale flesh. One hand covers her mouth, and the other comes down powerful, the crack ofit filling the room. She jerks, her wet, muffled cry dying in my palm. The way the sound hits my ears near sounds like pleasure, but I reckon she’s just gritting through the pain. Another swat, harder. Satin slides higher, bunching around her middle. “You belong to me, Alice. Not to some clerk watchin’ what’s mine.”
Her hips shift, the heat of her exquisite against my palm, and something bursts wide open inside me. I swing my hand harder. Her moan, sweet and shameless, is unmistakable.
“You like this,” I mutter.
“No,” she whispers, bashful voice trembling. I bring my hand down again, harder, and I swear that woman purrs.
“Christ almighty,” I growl, breath catching. Her words lie, but her body tells the truth. Each swat leaves her shaking, legs parting, body arching like she’s begging for more. The feel of her burning for me under discipline meant to humble her nearly undoes me. I reach between her thighs, fingers gliding between her folds, and find her ready for me.
She hums, lifting her hips into my touch.
I tease her, finger barely touching her damp heat. “You’re wantin’ this,” I whisper, half disbelieving, half burning, full-on iron-hard with need. “Damn you, Alice. You wanted me angry.”
“Bear. Please.”
“Please what?”
My hand cracks down again, harder. She gasps.
“You like me punishin’ you,” I rasp, each word landing like a brand.
Smack.
“You like me ownin’ you.”
Smack.
“But that ain’t near enough, is it?”
Her sobbing breath is answer enough, but I press, voice hard at her ear.
“You don’t just want my hand, lamb. You want to take me so deep you can’t think straight—want me fuckin’ you so hard your prim little prayers die in your throat.”
She whimpers, the sound choked and desperate. “Yes. Please, bear.”
I move her from my lap, lifting her into bed. “All fours.”
She does as she’s told, waiting for me, looking over her shoulder. Slip bunched at her waist, satin straps slid from her shoulders, hair wild, lips parted. Her breasts spill from the top of her slip, nipples tight. I might die if I don’t have her now.
