“I—” I flinch because once more, he makes it sound like I’m a criminal. “Yes.”
For a moment, it looks like he’s going to keep arguing with me. In a way, I wish for that. As scared as I am, I wish he lets it all out. Then we can finally start healing.
“You know what?” The anguish in his voice is a punch to the gut. “No. Just no.”
“I’m begging you…” For his sake more than mine, I need to remove every ounce of pain from Duncan so it never touches him again. “Talk to me.”
“I said no.” His face turns into stone. “I’m not doing this.”
When I try to cup his stubbled cheek, he snaps a hand around my wrist. His hold is harsh and unforgiving, though it doesn’t hurt.
I cry out anyway, from the shock.
Then he guides me to his desk, and I cry out a second time when he flips me and presses my cheek to the surface.
The wood is warm, smelling faintly of paint and solvent. Remnants of art being reborn. It reminds me how this room has seen a lot of beauty.
Now it’s going to see lust in its most primal form.
“Yesterday should’ve taught you better. Nothing good comes out of our conversations.” Slipping his hand to my front, he tugs on the bathrobe belt around my waist, and the robe falls open. “And it’s too little and too late for them anyway.”
“What? Why?”
“Hands on the workstation.”
I hesitate, about to ask for explanations a second time.
While I do, Duncan acts. He wraps a hand around the back of my neck, fingers applying just enough pressure to hold me in place.
“Do I need to remind you…” he murmurs, lips close to my ear. “That your habit of stalling could end badly for your brother?”
Heat rushes low between my thighs.
The control he has over me. The power he exudes.
I crave it.
With my brother safe, I’m free to give in to my sick desires.
Trembling, I follow his order and brace myself against the edge of what he called the workstation.
“You can’t do that,” I whisper, challenging him on purpose.
Especially when I’m pretty sure he won’t cut Barclay off. Duncan threatened me before. More than once. And so far, he hasn’t followed through.
“Pretty sure I can.” He pushes the robe up to the center of my back. Being exposed and vulnerable makes my breath hitch and desire drip down my thighs. “You know better than to test me.”
His possessiveness, as twisted as it is, has me soaking my inner thighs.
I want to get lost in this moment.
I can’t.
Just in case he’s serious, I drag Barclay back between us. “Don’t cut him off.”
“Goddammit, Elowyn.” Duncan’s gone from my line of vision, his knees meeting the floor behind me with a low thud.
Before I get to ask what he’s doing there, his hands are on me. His fingers dig into my butt cheeks, bruising them. Spreading them.
