Page 56 of The Jaded Notes

Desire catches in my throat.

“Is this what you mean?” Her voice is small and ragged.

Pride swells in my chest. She didn’t fight me like I expected her to. I stride to her, slow and deliberate.

“Exactly.” I crouch down. With my knuckle, I lift her chin until her eyes lock with mine. “I lead and you follow. You trust me enough to let me break you and believe I’ll be the one to rebuild you.”

“What if I forget the rules?”

“Then I’ll remind you. With my words. My hands. My restraint. Anything I think will put you back in line.”

“And what happens when I disobey you?”

I run my thumb along her jaw. “Then you’ll learn your lesson. But it won’t hurt unless you want it to. And I promise aftercare every time, including water, food, and a check-in. Your body matters here.”

Her eyelids flutter. She shakes off a shiver, but she’s not backing down. I kiss her forehead and pull her to her feet.

“You’ll speak when I say, you’ll touch when I permit it, and you’ll be quiet when I look at you like this.” I drag my stare down her body like a man delivering a climax. “And when you’re mine—really mine—I’ll make you forget every man who came before me.”

She exhales, sounding like relief and permission.

I grab her belongings off the table and hand them to her. “Now leave.”

“What?” Her voice spikes as she gets her bag and shawl situated in her grasp. “You’re telling me to go?”

“We’re not doing this here. Not tonight. You said you needed to know the rules. That was the first one.”

“Why can’t we start now?”

I lean over and kiss her one last time. “I decide when. But you should know, you could’ve had it another way, but you thought you needed all the answers here in the office. Lesson learned?”

She stands before me, caught between confusion and submission. Then, in a flash, she gives in and lowers her head. She turns and sways to the door, then stops.

Her voice drips with defiance, but I hear the desire beneath it. “And just what would these consequences look like?”

Chapter Thirteen

LIVIANNA/LILY

Then

Fancy Invitations & Perfect Roses

He hasn’t touched me tonight, but every rule feels like a promise I’m terrified to break.

There’s an unexpected knock on my door. Who could that be?

It’s Saturday and I’m working in the living room of my apartment, drinking coffee, buried in new ideas I can’t sketch out fast enough. I really need to get a computer program that can assist me.

I get up and answer the door. “Hi, can I help you?”

“Oh, you speak English.” There’s a younger guy with a thick French accent standing before me, holding a bouquet of pink roses and a black envelope. He offers them out. “These are for Livianna Hemings. This is you?”

“Yes, thank you. I mean,merci beaucoup.” I take the items from him.

“De rein.”

Don’t mention it, I say to myself. I think that’s what that means.