He lifts me—gentle now—turns me, cradles me against his chest.
I’m shaking. Ivan sits on the edge of the bed, me in his lap, arms wrapped around me like I might disappear.
I bury my face in his neck.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I won’t run again. Ipromise, Daddy.”
He doesn’t speak at first. Just holds me. One hand strokes my hair. The other rubs slow circles on my burning ass.
Minutes pass.
Dawn lightens the room.
Finally he exhales—long, weary.
“I know,” Ivan says.
He shifts us both, lays back on the bed, pulling me with him.
I curl into his side, cheek on his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart.
His arms come around me—strong, warm, safe in the strangest way.
We collapse together.
Exhausted.
Sated.
And, for the first time, truly,dangerouslyat peace.
Chapter 10
Ivan
Dawn has come and gone, leaving the penthouse bathed in pale, watery light.
I stand in the doorway between the hallway and the living area, arms folded, watching him.
That boy.
He’s quite something.
Infuriating. Dangerous even. But something special…
Landon sits cross-legged on the wide window seat that overlooks the city, sketchpad balanced on his knees, pencil moving in slow, meditative strokes.
He’s wearing one of my old black t-shirts—it swallowed him whole when he pulled it on—and nothing else. Claw the stuffie is propped against the glass beside him like a silent guardian.
It’s a sight I could get used to seeing, there’s no denying that.
And more than anything, he looks…peaceful.
A far cry from the sobbing, trembling boy I held against my chest at first light. The welts on his ass have already started to fade to a soft rose, and the clothespins are long gone, his nipples no doubt still slightly swollen but no longer angry red.
Now I watch the careful way he shades the skyline, the gentle concentration on his face, and something uncomfortable twists behind my ribs.
He’s too calm.
