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“Okay.” I nod. Because it’s not asking too much. I did blindside him. I could have talked to him, but I was afraid. “But you have to do the same.”

“Hitting you?”

I smile widely. “No, talk to me.”

He nods, his expression serious. “Okay. It’s a deal.” He runs his hand down my side, to my thigh, then hitches it around his hip. I lift my head up, and his stare is dark. Needy.

“Maybe we should have kept arguing,” I murmur. “Angry sex is always good sex.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t still angry.”

My heart thuds hard against my ribcage “You want to punish me?” I murmur, tracing his lips with my finger.

He captures my hand with his. Kisses my palm. “You wouldn’t like it if I punished you.”

“But do you want to?” I ask, breathily. Because right now, I think I’d do anything for him.

“I want nothing more,” he admits. Oh, he’s definitely still pissed. My thighs clench.

“Then do it,” I whisper. “Punish me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” There’s a break in his voice.

“It’ll hurt me more if you hold back.”

His jaw flexes. For a minute he says nothing, just stares at me, his breathing heavy. His eyes so dark he looks otherworldly.

Then he leans forward, his lips brushing mine. Oh god, I’m already halfway there. I don’t know what it is about this man, but it’s like his body sings to mine. Like he can control my desire with nothing more than a look.

“Get the hell upstairs and get naked,” he says softly against my mouth. “I want you waiting for me on the bed. Legs splayed open, arms stretched out.”

My breath catches. I don’t argue, I don’t throw his words back at him. Instead I stride to the stairs, feeling his eyes on me as my hips sway. Feeling the heat of desire pooling deep in my belly.

He doesn’t say a word as I walk up the stairs, fighting against the instinct to run. He doesn’t move as I open the bedroom door and walk inside, closing it softly behind me.

I’m so turned on and scared at the same time. I know he won’t hurt me.

But I still want it. Just a little bit.

I take my clothes off, putting them in the laundry hamper because I want him to think I’m a good girl. I shake my head at myself. I’m a grown up. A feminist. Yet, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alive than I feel now, knowing that West Abbott is going to punish me.

Like he instructed, I lie down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling with my arms stretched out and my legs splay out.

Exposing everything.

And I lie there for ten minutes. Ten. Whole. Minutes. Oh god, isthisthe punishment? Is he going to leave me like this, all hot and aching and needing his body on mine?

I swear it feels like hours before I hear the creak of his footsteps on the floor outside. The soft click of the handle as he pushes it open.

“Bennett is staying with Jesse tonight,” he murmurs as he steps inside. “There’s nobody to hear you scream.”

The way he says it, so calmly. So matter of fact. It sends a tingle of fear through my body.

“Good scream or bad scream?” I ask, aware of the tremble in my voice.

He laughs softly. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Oh he likes this. I do too. I turn my head to look at him.