And I’m hard as a fucking rock. After tossing and turning, I get up and rub one off in the shower because I can’t fucking sleep when I’m hard as fuck. It doesn’t bring the relief I’m craving. I don’t want my hand when her hot, tight cunt isright there.
In my room.
So I sleep fitfully until the morning light streams through the window, and I finally give up. I look over the edge of the bed and see her beautiful, sweet body splayed out on her back, the blanket askew. Sunrise kisses her bare legs.
I want to touch them.
I watch her, waiting to see if she’ll wake up afraid. But instead, she rolls over and stretches, her fingers brushing the cold metal above her head.
Her eyes meet mine.
“Morning,solnyshka.” Always taunting.
I growl at her. “Morning.”
She watches me as if waiting to pounce. Something’s shifted between us.
I push myself out of bed and unlock the cage.
“I knew if I looked pathetic enough, you’d come back and unlock it,” she says, pushing up on her elbow. “Pity you’re far too big to get in here with me. It’s so warm and cozy.” She presses her hand against the mattress. “Memory foam?”
This woman.
I try to remind myself this isn’t about her but about me. About loyalty. Making her suffer.
Then why do I have to stop myself from hurting her? Why do I crave seeing her eyes light up? Why do I love that little smirk on her face?
And why can’t I shake the feeling that she’s playing the long game? Gaining my trust. Manipulating me?
I can’t trust the little brat.
She doesn’t immediately jump out of the cage, and that… throws me.
Instead, shestretches,slow and sinuous, like a cat waking in the sun. Her arms reach high above her head, back arching just enough to make my sex-starved, sleep-deprived brain take note. My gaze drags along every curve and valley, the creamy softness of her peach-colored skin, the elegant curve of her neck still marked with my bites, though they’ve faded to dusky pink. Her hair, the natural white-blonde, fanned over her pillow like sunrise.
God, I love the way she’s comfortable in her body, even knowing she’s made enemies everywhere she turns.
I should yank her out by her ankles, drag her to her feet, and make her rememberexactlywho owns her now. I try to remind myself why I hunted her, what she did, and remind myself that she’s dangerous as fuck and can’t be trusted.
But I don’t. I don’t do any of those things. Instead, I fuckingwatch.
She knows. She has to know how she affects me.
When she finally sits up, it’s deliberate, the queen arching her back and meeting my gaze. “Slept like a baby,” she says with a yawn. “Oh, wait.” She presses a finger to her lips. “Was I supposed to be scared? Being caged and all?”
She tips her head to the side.
Baby.I’m stuck on the word baby. I’ve been so obsessed with the idea of her carrying our baby, anchoring her to me, that just hearing the word plants the vision of her heavy with pregnancy, carryingmy child…
I grunt and reach for her, but she’s already sliding out of the cage, unfurling like she has all the time in the world. Her gaze is amused. Calculating.
“I figured you’d fucking like it.”
Standing in front of me, she blinks long, long lashes at me and drawls as she reaches a hand to trace my bare shoulder. “The question is, big guy. Didyou?”
“Enjoy you caged?” I grab her hair and tug it back, baring her neck. I imagine what it would be like waking up to this woman curled up to me, her body rounded and full with my child, my palm pressed to her swollen abdomen. I lick my lips and swallow hard. “You know I do. You know I love having control over you.”
But something’s changed.
