Page 64 of His Keepsake

“Say Mr. Scott when you ask me.”

Something stuck in my throat as I met his gaze. His hair was short, black, but with that wild wave to the front where it was left longer. The ridged muscles of his neck and the squareness of his features emphasized his masculinity.

It was worth it just to hear him talk to me properly. Well, sort of properly. I hated Doms ordered me about like this, so why was this pressing my buttons? Because I knew he was a chaos demon when he wanted to be?

I gave my skirt one last tug.

“There. Fixed enough, Mr. Scott?”

“Yes.” He smiled and I thought I saw enjoyment there, not just sexual fixation. “Next time, behave, and I will tell you more.”

My mouth fell open. I said, disbelieving, “But what does behave even mean?” He loved making me take whatever he wanted to give, he loved the struggle. And so I was completely lost here.

Also, he’d said next time?

He stalked away, and the trees covered him, hiding him as if he were a wraith that was barely ever here. If not for the aches and the nasty twinges from that bite on my ass, I might have wondered if I’d imagined this. I looked about. A woman wandering half-clothed in this park at dusk was risking worse than Mr. Scott. The irony was not lost on me.

When I reached my car, I realized a man was watching from the far side of the empty parking area. With his arms folded, he was seated on a timber dividing rail in the deep shade under a broad tree. Mr. Scott was making sure I wasn’t assaulted by someone else.

Unsure how I should feel about this new development, I unlocked my Mazda and drove off. I could have tried to sneakily spot his car and noted down his registration plate. That and many other choices popped into my mind.

More irony, really. I didn’t want him in jail. Could a girl date her kidnapper? A clever and determined girl might.

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