Page 78 of Graciously His

His smile turns sharp. “You absolutely did. And maybe I should call you names, too. Turnabout is fair play, after all. Hmm… what are some things sweet baby Grace doesn’t want to hear?”

He cocks his head, pretending to think, then his eyes snap back to mine.

“How about slut.” He snaps the word out from between his teeth, then shakes his head. “No, not quite right. We need something double-barrelled, at least. How about fucking slut? Even better—my fucking slut who loves every nasty thing I do to her even if she pretends otherwise.”

I feel myself redden, hating every word out of his mouth. “Stop it.”

His lips keep smiling, though his eyes are cold. “Did I finger a trigger, Graciously?”

My stomach turns over so fast that I heave. It feels as if he’s reached into my body and combed his fingers through my intestines.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” I snarl in a rush. I lean into his grip, trying to regain myself, though my body wants to close in and curl up. “What I said was different. You’re using words that don’t apply to—”

“Words that don’t apply?” His hold on me tightens, keeping me in place despite the way I’m tilting to one side. “I’d say many people would call a woman who fucks her husband’s twin within a day of his death a slut at the very least. I bet your mother, especially, would be surprised at just how much you love all the brutal things I do to you, Graciously.”

I forget myself completely when he says that disgusting name again—lashing out faster than thought, I slap him across the face, hard. The crack rings out in the room and there’s a handprint on his cheek, angry and red.

I feel a sickly sort of triumph when he releases me. Then I see the look in his eyes and my heart beats so fast I’m almost dizzy.

Nate works his jaw to that side, clearly checking for damage, his eyes flat. I shake my head, denying my own actions though I know it’s pointless. My muscles tense as I get an image of running through the woods beyond the house, jumping streams, hiding between trees. And Nate, chasing me with that same predatory expression. The image is compelling, but he takes a long step forward, drawing my attention back to the moment.

“Don’t even think about it,” he snarls. “I’d love to chase you down, but not tonight.”

I feel like I’m immobilised by what I’ve done. In all our encounters, I’ve never fought him physically. I’ve crossed a brand new line—just like I did earlier today.

And he crosses them all the damn time, a voice whispers to me.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Nate says with an air of forced calm. “I’ll give you three options for an apology: One—”

“I’m not apologising,” I interrupt, “you don’t deserve—”

He’s on me before I can finish, one hand clamped over my mouth, the other propelling me backwards until I’m against the wall again.

“This is a one-time deal, Grace, and you’re not going to interrupt me again, got it?”

He leans in to meet my eyes, and I realise he’s fucking turned on by this; his pupils are wide, and his cock is a bar of iron against my leg. I feel an answering flutter in my belly and try to ignore it. He holds me in place until I nod, agreeing silently not to interrupt him.

“As I was saying, you’ve got three choices for an apology, Grace: First option, I fuck you exactly the way I want, whatever position I choose. If you’re fertile today, it’ll be up your ass.”

I squirm, tempted to tell him that, yes, I’ve entered my fertile window and, no, he cannot do that to me. Not without prep. His brows go up as he reads my thoughts with unerring ease.

“Second option is you give me the best blowjob of my fucking life. It’ll go on as long as I want and you’ll swallow every drop of my come.”

I swallow convulsively, dread pooling in my chest. I hate blowjobs and he’s respected that so far, a clear line between us.

“Third option," he continues, "I will take you over my knee and give you the spanking of your life. I won’t stop until your ass is cherry red and I am completely satisfied.”

My cheeks blaze as the flutter in my belly turns fiery. Nick would never even give me a playful smack on the ass during sex—and I did ask, before that side of our relationship died.

“So, what’ll it be, Grace?”

I can’t meet his eyes, not when I remember his brother’s disgust.

“Mmm,” he draws close, nuzzling my neck, “I think I know which option you want. And I think you’ll like giving me your apology.”

“Fuck you,” I hiss, trying to push him away.

He grabs my wrists and pins them to my sides.