Page 57 of King of Temptation

“I never said I don’t think I’m worth saving.”

Scooping up a forkful of eggs and meat, he watched her from under hooded eyes. “Sure sounded like it to me.”

“That’s not… ugh. Never mind.”

“Oh, I definitely mind. I mind a whole fucking lot when I hear my girl say she would understand if I left her to die alone and afraid.”

My girl. It didn’t mean anything. She tried to tell herself that over and over, in a desperate attempt to quell the fluttering of her heart those two words inspired. He was just caught up in the aftermath of a very emotional night. He didn’t actually mean it.

“Look, all I’m saying is that I’m a cop’s daughter. I’ve seen what killing a man does to a person. And I never would have asked you to carry that kind of weight for me.”

Setting his plate aside, Brody leaned across the countertop, his dark-gray eyes blazing with such emotion it stole her breath. He reached for her, cupping her face in one rough palm, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

“Listen to me, menace. Because I will not repeat myself.”

Her breath caught at the intensity in his gaze, the weight of his words. “Okay,” she whispered.

“I would bear the weight of a hundred thousand souls for even one more day with you in my arms. I came for you last night because I’m a selfish bastard and I knew I couldn’t survive losing you. So whatever idea you have in your mind about owing me some kind of goddamned debt, you can just put it right out of your head. You are mine, so I came for you, and I will do it again and again if I have to. Understood?”

What the hell was she supposed to say to that? Her mind raced, searching for the appropriate response to what might have been the most romantic fucking thing anyone had ever said to another person.

But what spewed out of her mouth instead was “Spank me.”

Brody blinked, clearly as surprised by her outburst as she was. “What?”

Now that it was out in the open, though, her mind latched onto the idea. “I didn’t listen. You told me it was dangerous to come sniffing around you and your family and I didn’t listen. And it nearly got you and your cousins killed. I–You did kill a man. For me. Because I didn’t listen. If anyone in the history of ever has deserved to get their ass blistered for something, it’s me.”

Releasing his hold on her face, he shifted back on his feet, arms crossed over his broad chest. “I am not going to punish you because I did what was necessary to keep you safe.”

“But you should.” Tears pooled on her lashes, her bottom lip trembling with the effort to keep them at bay. “I feel fucking awful, Brody. Please?”

“Jesus.” Raking a hand through his hair, he sighed, the sound seemingly coming from the very depths of his soul. “I’ve never had anyone beg me to punish them.”

“Seems only fair I get to be your first since you were the first man to spank me.”

Hunger flashed in his eyes. “The first and the only.”

She couldn’t go down that particular path just then or she was going to completely fall apart. “Please, Daddy? I–I need this.”

For several long moments they simply stared at each other, the only sound in the kitchen the ticking of the oddly cheesy cat clock on his wall.

“All right.”

Relief flooded her system, followed quickly by fear. “You’re going to punish me?”

“No. I am going to spank you, but I want to make it very clear that this is not about me or anything I had to do in order to keep you safe. This is only about helping you work through your guilt.”

“Oh. What’s the difference?”

That smirk she loved to hate tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Trust me, menace, you’ll know the difference when I actually do punish you. Now, eat your breakfast and then Daddy will help you get rid of all that guilt you’re carrying around.”

Chapter 20

Goldie

It took her way too long to finish her breakfast, thanks to the lump permanently lodged in her throat. But now she was done, and their dishes had been cleared away—Brody, she was noticing, was a bit of a neat freak—leaving her with no choice but to follow him to the living room.

Taking a seat in the middle of his plush couch, he crooked a finger, beckoning her to him. And as if he’d pulled on some imaginary rope tied around her middle, she went, crossing the living room with slow, measured steps as her heart did its best impression of a woodpecker in her chest.