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“Two weeks ago.”
I throw my head back and drag in a lungful of fresh air. That will never fucking happen again.
Chapter 5
My heart skips a beat as I catch the fury brewing in his eyes. I am so used to my father’s punishments; I am not fazed, yet a bit afraid. I know this kind of disobedience will demand an entirely new retribution.
“He won’t touch you or punish you ever again.” He says it with the authority of a judge deciding my fate—resolutely.
I snort a laugh. If he thinks my father will listen, then he will be disappointed.
Cato lifts my chin, my lips still tingling from his kiss. My first one was too much—possessive, commanding, toe-curling. On pure reflex, I lick my lips.
“Your lips are still there.” He smiles smugly, and I pull my face away. “You don’t believe me when I say your father won’t touch you?”
“No.”
“What if I am right?”
He is so damn cocky. I raise an eyebrow in challenge.
“For every time you say I cannot do something when I do, you have to give me something in return.”
“Like what?”
What the hell am I doing, entertaining and encouraging his madness, instead of putting a stop to it? I want him on his knees, with me as the winner, but I’ll let him believe he has the upper hand.
His eyes peruse me lazily. “Like you . . .”
This man does the strangest things to my insides, as if they are putty in his hands, pulling them apart, cramming them back. As if he kissed the seductress in me awake, I rise on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear, “Me doing what?”
In one swift move, his arms brace on the hood of the car, and lava flows through my veins as he keeps me trapped between his strong arms. His scent is made to make women insane, goading me to give in. I have to force my fingers not to touch the stubble on his chin that makes him appear more rugged. As if he needs that. He has the type of lethal beauty. Sharp edges, steel eyes. I imagine how his stubbled chin would feel against other parts of my body, and a heat wave takes me under.
“No,cara, it’s me doing what I want to you, and I will come to collect.”
“Another kiss?”
He brushes his lips against mine, and electricity zaps me from head to toe. “Curious, huh?”
“Father will punish me.”
His hand snakes around my back and down to my ass. It’s unfair, it’s uncanny, it’s madness the way my body welcomes his touch. Invasive or not, it doesn’t matter, because before I can even process what he’s doing to me, he snatches my phone from my jeans and places it in my face, unlocking it. He taps something, and his phone rings.
“Did you just steal my number?”
“Is that what you will tell yourself every time I take something from you? Something you’d give me freely anyway at some point?” He emphasizes the word freely and my anger erupts.
I turn around, get in the car, and shut the door behind me. He is so infuriating.
Cato gets in beside me and starts the engine. Classic music blares through the sound system. I would have never expected Cato to listen to dark, soulful music. This man is a conundrum.
We spend the drive in silence, while I relive the kiss over and over again. After a guard lets him pass through the gates, he parks the car. The air charges around us with heavy implications I’m not ready to stew over. My knees buckle as I stumble out and support myself against the door. Cato is right at my back, his body towering over me, giving me his silent support. Even though I don’t need it; surprisingly, it still comforts me. My father waits at the top of the entry stairs. I flinch at the fury I detect in his eyes, at the evil glint. But it’s gone when he looks at Cato.
“My son . . . thank you for bringing her back.”
I roll my eyes at him, and my father says, “Go to your room. We’ll talk later about your disobedience.”
I stomp away, not even looking at them, and walk to my sister’s room. I find her on her bed, crying.
