Brandi glanced to the side, embarrassed, “I’m the coward in this relationship.”
“Excuse me?”
“I ran when I should have stayed. I hide when I should have been seen. Hell, I told myself at every chance that I didn’t deserve you and wrapped it in the idea it was you who was ignoring me—using me.”
She moved out of his reach paced the floor. “I’m scared of you breaking my heart, but honestly, I broke it a long time ago. I did it all by myself.”
“Well, aren’t we a pair?” He chuckled.
Brandi glanced at him sheepishly. “I don’t wanna hide anymore. I’m not asking you to love me, Tool, although I love you. I’m asking you to want me. All of me, and let me want all of you.”
She loved him. Sauntering across the room, he stopped in front of her. “Did you just say you loved me?”
She’d said it and meant it. “Yes.”
“I love you too.” His fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt. She didn’t stop him. When he raised an eyebrow at her, Brandi lifted her arms and sighed as he pulled the shirt up and off.
Epilogue
Brandi stoodat the edge of the bed, heart pounding, skin bare beneath the dim amber glow of the bedside lamp. Her lips were slightly parted, eyes lowered—not because she was afraid, but because she knew what he needed.
Tool watched her from the shadows near the dresser. His presence filled the room, thick and magnetic. He hadn’t touched her yet, but she already felt claimed. Owned.
“On the bed,” he said, voice low, steady. “Face down. Hands above your head.”
She moved instantly. Crawled across the mattress, the cool sheets brushing against her flushed skin. Her nipples peaked from the brush of air, her breath catching as she stretched her arms out, wrists resting on the pillow like she knew he’d want.
He came up behind her, one hand gripping the nape of her neck to still her. The other trailed slowly down her spine, fingers spread wide, dragging heat along her skin. “You know whose you are, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, the words husky and laced with need.
He took his time. Not because he needed to—but because she did. Letting her sit in the vulnerability of it. Letting her feel the weight of his presence without rush.
Leather rasped as Tool slid his belt free. She heard it before she felt him—one knee sinking into the mattress behind her, the belt draped across her lower back. A warning. A promise.
“You’re mine tonight,” he said, his hand closing around the back of her neck. “Every breath. Every sound. Every fucking inch.”
“Yes, sir.”
He didn’t start soft. He didn’t need to. Brandi was already wet—already his.
The first strike of his palm landed firm across her ass, a sharp crack that made her gasp and arch. He followed it with a softer touch, fingers soothing the sting, then another swat—deliberate, measured, followed by his voice at her ear.
“Good girl.”
She whimpered, not from pain, but from the unraveling. From the way he knew how to keep her right there—on the edge of breaking open.
He pushed her thighs wider, ran his fingers between them, found her soaked. “Look at you,” he growled. “So fucking wet for me.”
When he finally moved his belt and lined himself behind her, he didn’t thrust in right away. Instead, he gripped her hair and pulled her head back until she was arching, exposed, desperate.
“You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tool leaned over her, the hard line of his body pressing into her spine. “No touching me unless I say. No moving unless I move you. You give me everything, Brandi. You hear me?”
“I hear you,” she whispered, her body tightening with need. “I’m yours.”
