“I’m enjoying the view.” My voice drops, more intimate. The dark centers of her eyes go wide.
“I’m not squirming.”
The lie is thin enough to tear. She’s been shifting in that chair every thirty seconds. I don’t call her on it. I just let my gaze travel deliberately down her body and back up, slow enough that she feels every second.
Her breath hitches. Those hard points against her robe become more pronounced. I see the moment she realizes I can see them.
Her throat works as she swallows. She stands abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “I’m finished.”
“Sit down.”
“No.”
There it is. The spark. I let the moment stretch. “That’s the second time you’ve refused a direct instruction. Don’t make it three.”
“Or what?” The words burst out of her, reckless. “You’ll punish me? I’m already here. Already sold. Owned by a man who apparently can’t get a woman without paying for her.”
The accusation is a clean strike. For a moment, I consider letting it slide. But she needs to understand.
I stand slowly. She tracks the movement, backing herself against the window. Cornered.
“You think I had to buy you?” My voice is level, more dangerous than a shout.
She lifts her chin. “What does that say about you?”
I close the distance in measured steps. Her breath comes faster. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips.
“It says I didn’t want them,” I tell her when I’m close enough that she has to tilt her head back. “I wanted you.”
My hand shoots out, cupping her jaw. She gasps, her body going rigid before a slight tremor softens her into my hold.
“And you’re about to learn how much you want me back.”
“I don’t—”
I kiss her. Brutal. Claiming. Her body surges toward mine even as her hands come up in a token protest that falters against my chest. Her mouth opens under mine, and when I deepen the kiss, a sound that is pure need tears from her throat. She’s kissing me back, her tongue tangling with mine.
When I finally pull back, we’re both breathing hard.
“If I let you walk out that door right now,” I ask against her lips, “no contract, no consequences—would you leave?”
The question hangs between us. Pride wars with something else in her eyes. She doesn’t answer, but she sways toward me instead of pulling away.
Just as I thought.
I grip her wrist and start walking, pulling her behind me. “Come on.”
“What are you doing?” Her voice is breathless.
“Teaching you about assumptions.”
She tries to dig in her heels, but her resistance is a faltering thing, a gesture that dies with each step I pull her forward. Up the stairs, down the hallway, into my bedroom. The door slams shut, the sound making her flinch.
I back her against it, caging her with my arms. I’m not touching, but she can feel the heat from my body. Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths.
“Stop me,” I say, my voice low. “Use the word, and this ends.”
“And if I don’t?”
