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He removes his hand off my chin and drags his knuckles over my cheeks, neck, and breasts.
I shudder from the tingles erupting under his touch, reprimanding myself for responding to him.
Arrogance overpowers his features as he claims, "Every moment I give you is my choice, Blakley. I created the rules. I decide what happens here. Don't ever forget it."
My mouth turns dry.
He warns, "I assure you I'll enjoy administering your punishments as much as giving you pleasure." His lips curl tighter as he adds, "And the punishment won't be something you enjoy."
I try not to react, but the shaking in my legs gets more intense. And I'm confident by his expression that I have a horrified look on my face. How can I not?
Once again, I'm being naive. Everything was in the contract I signed and then agreed to after he made me read it all day. It's not the first time he's mentioned punishments, but would he really do something awful to me?
My curiosity about how far he would go grows.
Unable to control my balance, my body bows into his.
He circles his arm around my waist, grips the tender spot on my ass, and uses it to prop me up. He keeps my wrists in the air, not giving me any relief.
He continues studying me, as if he can see deep into my soul and read all my thoughts. It takes everything in my power not to flinch or look away.
"Ah, this is going to be more fun than I planned," he announces.
My breath hitches. I blink harder, wishing I understood everything he's referring to and where he's coming from on all of this.
He finally releases me and steps back. "I have work issues I need to attend to. Work on your music."
He spins and reaches for the doorknob. The door opens, and the two delivery men stand near their truck in the driveway.
I shouldn't care that he wants to leave after what he just did. I don't consider myself a clingy person. But something about him leaving after all the different exchanges we had this morning makes me panic. I blurt out, "When will you be home?"
He freezes, and his shoulders tighten. He turns his head, lowers his voice so the others can't hear, and in a stern voice answers, "When I decide."
12
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Anger rages inside me. It's not at Blakley. Nothing is her fault. I shouldn't have lost control in the shower and kissed her.
She's going to want more. I can already see it.
Hell, I want more, and it can't happen again. Kissing leads to attachments. The last thing I need is to take my eye off what's important, which is taking down Hugh. So no matter how much I'm attracted to his daughter, she's my secret weapon. I need to remember that at all times. And I quickly need to regain the power in this relationship.
It's why I had to call her pet in front of the delivery men. I knew it would embarrass her as well as distort her rose-colored view of what happened this morning between us.
Then there's the issue of the delivery guys. Sam gets a pass. He had the willpower not to give my pet lewd looks. On the other hand, Wayne has my wrath coming to him.
I step outside the beach house, intentionally not giving Blakely an answer she wants to hear, and head down the driveway toward the men.
Everything I felt as a child spins inside me, and the monster within me takes off his disguise. I lunge at Wayne, spinning him into the truck and restraining him to the metal with my forearm against his spine. I grab him by the hair, tugging until his face is toward the sky and he's choking for air.
"Easy!" Sam yells.
I jerk my head toward him, feeling the chaos building and knowing I'm at a point there's no calm anywhere, threatening, "Do you want to put your job in jeopardy too?"
He holds up his hands, his brown eyes widening, answering, "No, man." He takes a step back, freezing on the concrete.
It doesn't surprise me. I just bought a three-million-dollar piano, and with that comes the ability to turn men into cowards. It's a hard fact I learned early on in my career. I had just begun making money and saw how Hugh could shut people up or get them to back off by showcasing what he could buy.
