Page 61 of If I Were Yours

He reaches over me to yank my seat belt across my chest and snap it into place.

He doesn’t say a thing as he sets the car into reverse with a bit too much force and lifts his angry scowl to the rearview mirror.

“Will you please talk to me? You’ve been like this for days, and it’s starting to get to me.” I’ve been on edge myself while he’s been here for the last couple of days. Not just because of his bad mood, but also knowing tomorrow will be our last day together before Christmas and we won’t see each other for three weeks. Maybe it’s the same thing that bothers him. Maybe he didn’t want me to go practice at the university at all because he wanted me close.

But then why didn’t he say so?

“Is it because I wanted to practice at the university today?” I press on, feeling a bit reckless as I keep poking the bear.

His mouth twists in a grim expression, and he clutches the stick so hard his knuckles turn white. With his eyes still trained on the mirror, he says in a low, rumbling tone, “If you were mine, I wouldn’t allow this.”

I stare at him as he backs the car into the street. “What wouldn’t you allow?” I ask, slightly flustered.

“This sneaking around.” He sets off down the quiet street with too much speed, then slams the brakes and leans over the console, grabbing my chin and boring his furious eyes into me.“If you were mine, Clara…” His mouth twists with feral anger, and I wait breathlessly for more words. But they never come. The unfinishedthreathovers in the air between us with dangerous and unfulfilled potency.

He releases my chin with an abrupt motion and returns his attention to the road as he starts driving again.

His words swirl in my mind, blotting out everything else.

If I were his.

What does that even mean? If I were his and his alone—is that it? Would he be more strict and overbearing? Is that even possible? Would he keep me on an even shorter leash, demand that I let him pick me up in the courtyard and kiss me where everyone can see?

The thought both thrills and scares me.

I discreetly watch the mighty man beside me, and as I study his proud posture and the brutal energy rolling off him, I get the feeling that I’ve barely felt half the potential of his dominant nature.

It’s hazardous and reckless, but I can’t help it: I want to feel the full force of his dominance with everything it entails—the good and the bad; the violence and the care. Because I know that if I were truly his, he would use that same fierce strength to protect me.

The thought keeps flickering in my mind, stirring up new and old worries, deep-seated longing, and floods of questions.

But one thing remains at the forefront.

The pining for a kiss.

I need to know why he won’t kiss me—if I’ll ever get to feel his possessive lust through his lips, or if we’ll forever remain stuck in this limbo, being together but not quite being together.

I dread his response, so I carefully ease my way into the subject when we’re sitting in bed, reading, in the evening.

“Have you ever shared a sub before?” I ask. “I mean, like you and Markus are doing now?”

Grigory lowers his Kindle to his lap and looks at me. “Not on a permanent basis, no. But before Magdalena, I had a play-partner I’d occasionally share with other men. When one of my good friends started seeing her, we sometimes dominated her together.”

“Did you kiss her?” I bury my head into his chest as I blurt out the question. I’d planned on dragging it out for a while, gain some more information about his past relationships before diving into these dangerous waters, but I can’t wait anymore.

“Clara, that’s different.” He slides a hand onto the back of my head, but the tender gesture does nothing to soothe me.

“How?”

Grigory releases me and gets up with his back to me, taking a few restless steps through the room as he rakes a hand through his hair.

“How, Grigory?” I say. “How is it different?”

Suddenly, he turns around, his eyes alight with a fierce intensity that makes me scoot back. “I never wanted to own her.” He leans down, wrapping his hand around my neck and pressing me into the headboard.

I don’t have to pry. The explanation is written all over his face as he pierces me with stormy eyes.

He wants to ownme.

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