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The conversation came tumbling back to her in a very ugly way.
Chapter Eleven
Okay. Kensley took a deep breath and focused. So, it was a little bit of a hiccup in the negotiating process of the contract. He was serious, clearly, and she had thought he wasn’t.
“Look, I thought you were joking, and when I agreed, I did so sarcastically and in jest, because surely you didn’t mean you were actually going to spank me, right? That’s insane.”
“I take all matters seriously when it comes to any contract I sign.”
“But still, you must be kidding about that, right? You're just messing with me.”
“Do I look as if I'm messing with you, Kensley?” he asked, his jade-colored eyes narrowing, his perfectly sculptured jaw hard and clenched. His whole demeanor exuded dominance.
Shut the frigging, front, fucking door. Marcy had always accused her of not knowing how to swear properly.
“But...” She rose from the chair on shaky legs.
“The contract also stipulated I owned you for the duration of the month. Or did you forget that part too?”
She meekly shook her head. She didn't forget that part. How insane had she been when she signed that contract?
“Since you’re having a problem articulating things, that, by any definition, means you belong to me, and you do as I say. And I say, no man is allowed to touch what's mine.”
“Right. Good talk. So, if you would just show me to my cell, I’ll get out of your hair.” She started inching backward toward the door, keeping an eye on her predator.
“Your dress, Kensley.”
“What about it?”
“Take it off.”
“First of all, it’s not my dress, and you've already ruined it. You’re lucky I know how to use a needle and cotton enough to fix it before I give it back to Marcy. And second, no, why would I do that?”
“It's too tight, and I plan to spank your bare ass. So, unless you can lift it over your ass, I suggest you take it off.”
“What happens if I don’t?”
“The contract becomes void.”
Crap.
That could not happen. He had all the freaking power, and the only thing she could negotiate with was her virginity, and that, only on the clear premise that at the end of it all, she got to keep it. Hunter McLeod could not touch her that way. She would never be the same again.
“Can I take a rain check?” Yes, because procrastinating was a good tactic to use.
“No.”
Why did she even try?
“Well, I'm not going to take the dress off. I'm not wearing anything underneath, so you can spank me the way I am.” There was no way she could lift the dress to expose her butt. The only way she could do that was if she shimmied out of it from top to bottom, which would expose her breasts. Talk about a “screwed on both sides” situation.
“Take the dress off. The longer you take, the more I’m going to spank you.”
“Fine, mean beast,” she muttered. “Give me your shirt.” Yeah, if she only had to show him her butt, he wouldn’t be getting a free ticket to seeing her breasts as well. His jacket wouldn’t help her in that department, but his shirt had buttons she could use to cover up.
He didn't hesitate and immediately began to unbutton his shirt. By the time he tossed it at her, she was desperately trying not to gape at his perfect body in every single way. His abs were outlined like concrete boulders, all four rows. Yes, she counted. Blessed with not an ounce of fat, her gaze skidded to a stop, before she followed the dark trail of hair tapering into his pants.
Nope.
