“I don’t know,” I breathe. “I’ve never in my life been spanked, but the thought of it beingyou…”
I couldn’t explain why it excited me if you paid me, but every threat he makes sends frissons of excitement through me.
“That’s perfect,” he says in a low rumble. “Because I haven’t been able to get the image of you bent over my lap, squirming while I spanked you, out of my mind.”
“Oh,” I say with forced nonchalance. “Kinky bugger, aren’t you?”
He drags me onto his lap and restrains me against his chest, one arm holding me tight while he grips the back of my neck with his free hand. “You have no fucking idea, gorgeous.”
Dear God, I hope he’s not joking aboutthat.
“This is what we’re going to do,” he whispers in my ear. “We’re going into the house, and you’ll walk in behind me.”
What? I’m pulled out of the sexy bubble in the car when he instructs me like this.
“Because I’m a woman?”
He sighs, his grip on my neck tightening. “Because I always sweep a place before I enter it. I told you, Bryn. I’m a member of the Cowen Clan. This is how we do things.” He gives me a funny look. “I’m a bit surprised you don't know that.”
I shrug, but don’t reply. I feel suddenly embarrassed by my reaction.
“I always make sure the coast is clear, that no one’s hiding or whatever the fuck. Understood?”
I nod. “Aye.”
And it's the first time since I've met him that I actually wonder if I'm in danger. My father doesn't care if I am, clearly. But this bloke’s a member of the Scottish mob. I wonder if he tried to hurt me, if he could dispose of me in a way that no one would ever find me. Does my father know I'm in danger?
Am I?
Maybe I should be more afraid. Maybe I should have some sense of self-preservation.
Was there another reason we ditched my bodyguard?
But I remind myself what my purpose here is.
I don’t want to end up with a man I don't love. I want some freedom. And if I'm going to do this my father’s way, I'm going to enjoy every fucking minute of it.
I don't trust Mac. I don't even know him. But I think that's actually part of the appeal.
So I take his hand, and I walk behind him. He goes into the flat first and puts the light on. He points to the floor where I’m standing, and I take it to mean that he doesn't want me to move. I actually consider disobeying him for a moment, just to see what he would do. But something tells me I'm going to find out tonight anyway. Instead, I watch him.
First, he slides the little box with our dessert into the fridge.
Then he opens every closet, every door, and even checks the bathroom to see if anyone's hiding in the shower stall. It's an oddsort of routine, but for some reason I like seeing him do this. His body’s taut like a spring, as if he’s ready to pounce at the first sign of danger. I suspect if anything were to threaten us… he’d protect me. He's the type that would, I know it.
Strangely, I realize I’ve known this from the very moment that we met.
As he does his investigation, I peruse the apartment. It definitely doesn't look very lived-in. It's immaculately tidy, not a dirty dish in the sink, nothing out of place or a speck of dust anywhere.
But it isn't just the cleanliness of the place that makes me draw in a quick breath. It’s how gorgeous it is. This is absolutely stunning. I can't believe this isn't his primary residence, because if I lived here, I'd never want to leave.
He’s called it a “flat,” but it’s really a penthouse. In front of us is a double height drawing room with a gorgeous glass-encased staircase to a gallery. I suppose the bedrooms are upstairs. I’m eager to see them.
Everything is spacious, wide open, with full walls of sheer glass. You could sit anywhere on the main floor and see outside. Though it's nighttime, it's a full moon and the moonlit garden looks glorious outside this window. The furniture’s black leather. There’s a coffee table and end table in front of the couch, looking modern and sleek in blacks and whites. A black and white checked rug is on the floor, black and white accents throughout the room.
There’s a rocker by the fire, and small vases of fresh flowers on nearly every flat surface. I peek past the drawing room to the kitchen, and gasp when I catch a glimpse. Sleek black countertops, stainless steel appliances. It’s fucking stunning.
We’re not here to see the kitchen tonight, I know that for a fact.
