I hold out my hand and she comes to me, climbing onto my lap and burrowing close to my chest. As I wrap my arms around her, she clings tightly, like she’s trying to mold our two bodies into one.
“What happened with Malloy?” I ask.
For a moment, I think she won’t answer. But then she says, “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“I have to tell Granny… And Breagha too. But a few more hours won’t make a difference.”
She’s the mob princess. She knows what’s best for her clan. “But you’re safe?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” she says.
For now,finehas to be enough.
“Let’s get you to bed,” I say.
She wriggles closer. “Not yet.”
“You must be exhausted.”
“I slept on the drive back.”
“For what? All of an hour?”
But she walks her fingers up the front of my black T-shirt, cupping my bristled chin with her palm. “My,” she says slowly. “What a rough beard you have.”
Something tightens deep inside my gut. We’ve both just survived the longest four days of our lives. Logic says we should go to bed and start to unpack all the wreckage in the morning.
But Kate has never brought out my most logical side. I rub my cheek against her soft, smooth neck. “The better to burn you with, my dear.”
She makes a sound that’s half-sigh, half-moan, arching her throat to give me access to more skin. I scrape my cheek againsther again, marking her like a wild animal. She squirms even closer, reaching between us to get at my belt. When I close my teeth on her earlobe, she yelps.
“Hush,” I say. “It was too late to send everyone home tonight. Nilsson and Anna are still in the room off the kitchen. Your grandmother and Mrs. Watson are upstairs.”
She slips her fingers past my waistband, twisting her wrist to find my already enthusiastic cock. “Then we can’t stay here in your office. And we can’t go upstairs to our bedroom. Whatever will we do?”
“I could gag you,” I suggest. “And take you right here, on my desk.”
Her pretty pout makes me groan. Or maybe that’s my reaction to her fingernails scraping across my balls. “That would keepmesilent,” she says. “But what about you?”
I swat her ass to remind her who’s in charge, and I force her hand out of my pants, back to her side. But I help her off my lap. And my fingers are tight on the back of her neck as I march her down the hall, to the doorway that leads to the soundproof haven of the dungeon.
I kiss her when we reach the golden-oak floor. I want to taste her. I want to feel her open under my lips. I want to hear every greedy moan rise at the back of her throat. But mostly, I want to see if she really is strong enough to bear all the things I long to do tonight.
She’s steady on her feet. No swaying—yet. No trembling—yet. Just the ripe, ready invitation of my perfect sub, opening as my kiss gets deeper and deeper.
I pull away first, which makes her whine. “Out of those clothes,” I order. “Now.”
She tilts her head to a coy angle and fiddles with her top button, but I don’t intend to let her write any sort of script. I turn to the armoire to remind her I’m in charge.
I don’t need to take as much time as I do. I already know what I want from the drawers—a blindfold, to keep her guessing. An O-ring gag, so I can still use her mouth. A pinwheel, its spikes extra sharp, so I can trace every inch of her body and leave a trail against her milk-pale flesh.
When I’ve gathered the gear, I turn back. And she takes my breath away.
She’s naked, as I ordered. But while I was at the armoire, she crossed the room. She stands facing the far wall, her legs spread and her arms stretched over her head. Her back arches beneath the tangle of her hair, just enough to raise her ass.
I can still make out the three sharp lines where I caned her, more than a month ago.
