His eyes narrow at me. Not like I didn’t take care of her on his orders. He knows this all goes beyond just the two of them.
But Saint’s attention flickers to where Wren is trying to covertly peek through the front window at us. “Where was she when this started?”
“My office. I told her to hide under my desk until someone came to get her.”
A gruff noise brings his attention back to me. Is he wondering why we were in there or deciding if I should have stayed to protect her?
“You told her the rules.” My words aren’t a question, he wouldn’t have let her stay if she didn’t know what we expect from her.
“My wife seems to have a hard time following orders.” Saint doesn’t sound angry, but it’s not always easy to tell.
“Sounds like she needs to be reminded.” Sin crosses his arms, focus never once turning away from Wren.
The threat is a delicious one. I want to finish what we started in my office, but I doubt that would be an appropriate reprimand. Not with the way her eyes glittered up at me as she took my cock down her throat, how she so eagerly sucked and stroked me, howquickly she sank to her knees when I told her to show me what Saint taught her.
How do you discipline someone who enjoys what you offer her?
“She needs a punishment.” I have to turn away from Wren to keep my thoughts clear because the image of her mouth stretching around my cock is too fresh. “Are you going to deliver it? Or should one of us?
Saint’s jaw clenches. “I will.”
He steps forward, and I catch Sin’s gaze. The dark pleasure in his eyes says it all. We both want to watch, want to take part in her punishment, but not yet.
Following behind into the bar, it takes every ounce of restraint to watch Saint take Wren by the arm, whisper something against her ear that has all her bravado fall before he escorts her downstairs.
18
WREN
Saint’s anger is intense. Scary. I freeze up when he takes my arm, towers over me, then leans in to whisper in my ear. “They were here for you.”
My stomach drops. Tears well, threatening to fall, but he pulls me toward the stairs and down to our room. I don’t fight him. Fear is more than an ember in my chest. Men had come here to find me. Even after the sheriff, after my father, were both told I married Saint. Does that mean I’m not as safe as I thought I’d be?
When we’re closed in my room, Saint releases me, and I can feel him hovering at my back, but I need to get my tears in check first.
What if they’d gotten to me? Would someone have gotten hurt trying to free me? Would they have succeeded in taking me back to Grant?
The possibilities swarm, and I’m overwhelmed.
I take a few deep breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth, until my heart beat becomes more manageable.
Then, I face him and his anger. Steady. Working myself toward numbness so that I can take it and not crumple before he’s done with me.
I nearly do when I look into his eyes. His anger is visceral, like a living thing he might lose control of. Still, I don’t believe he’ll hurt me.
“You were told to stay put.”
“Yeah, but?—”
“No. You will listen.” He takes a step closer, and I’m shaking. I can’t stop. “Do you understand what could have happened to you if you came out before it was safe?”
I don’t like the disappointment in his tone as he dresses me down. It hurts more than simple anger. I’m used to anger.
“But it was?—”
Saint’s hand comes around the back of my neck, pulling me closer, making me look up at him. His eyes are alight with so much that I can’t keep up with the rolling emotions. “That is notthe point.”
He takes a breath as if to steady himself, to keep an explosion at bay.
