He releases my wrists and places his hands on my waist, using his grip to force me around so that I’m facing the wall. “What are you doing?”
“Showing you who’s in control here.”
I twist to get away from him, but he holds my body in place with his hips. Proof of the power behind those big muscles.
I hear stitches popping as he roughly yanks downward on the zipper on the back of my dress.
“Please don’t.”
I grasp the front of my dress, holding it against my body, but the bastard continues yanking at it until he has completely ripped it open. Baring my back. Exposing my ass. In a thong.
“Shower and put on the gown that I chose for you. I will not tell you again.”
He’s won. Given me no choice. I’m forced to put on that damn gown if I want my body to be covered.
He releases his hold and I waste no time squirming away and racing to the bathroom to get away from him.
“Don’t linger or I will come in there to see what is taking you so long.”
I don’t doubt him for a second.
Tears burn my eyes as I slide what remains of my dress down my arms and drop it on the floor beside the wastebasket. Trash. That’s all it is now.
Despite shampooing my hair and washing my body as fast as humanly possible, he still knocks on the door before I finish. “Breakfast will be here in five minutes. I don’t want to be left waiting.”
“I can’t go any faster, asshole,” I whisper.
“What was that, Miss Grant?”
I quickly rinse the suds from my body. “I said that I’m almost finished.”
“Very good.”
I’m moving too fast to be completely dry when I slip the gown over my head. Water droplets from my soaked hair fall from the tips, leaving wet spots on the ivory silk. The breeze from the vent is cold, making my skin prickle. My nipples look like two points straining against the fabric. That’s just fucking great.
I open the door and become motionless when I find the bedroom empty. And the door open.
He left without locking me inside?
“May I bring you anything else, sir?” A man’s voice. There’s someone else in the suite. This could be my chance to escape.
I dash into the living room and stop dead in my tracks when I see one of the men who escorted me to the suite last night. All of my hope is immediately extinguished; I’ll get no help from him.
“I believe that everything we’ll need is here, but I’ll call if we require anything else.”
The man glances at me and quickly looks away when Tristan flicks his hand. Dismissing him.
The door shuts, and Tristan’s eyes roam my body, making me feel like I need to shower all over again.
“I’ll make an allowance this time because we’ve not yet discussed it, but while you are mine, you will never let another man see you like this unless it’s someone that I’ve invited to join us.”
Everything about that statement makes me feel sick inside.
“It isn’t my intention to be seen like this by any man, including you. I’m not yours, and you can forget about my being part of any act that involves a person you’veinvited to join us. Because that would be fucked up.”
Tristan Broussard pulls the chair away from the table as though he’s some kind of gentleman, but we both know that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Sit… please.”
Tristan Broussard saying please… it comes off incredibly insincere.
