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"I can’t love you. It’s not in me to love you." I begin to straighten, but she throws her arms about my shoulders and pulls me in. "I don’t believe you, Sir."
My heart stutters. She called me Sir. So, she hasn’t completely turned her back on me, yet.
"What happened to me when I was captured changed me. I’m not the man I was. I can’t feel. Can’t behave like other men do. I can’t return to everyday life and set up a home with a wife and kids. Those things are not for me."
"So, tell me what happened to you."
"You don’t know what you’re asking for."
She cups my cheek, and her touch slices through every single barrier I’ve erected since the day I was buried alive. The day I was made to feel like it was the end of the road for me. Like I was losing the very core of what I was. The day I lost my mind. The day I almost gave up hope of making it out of there alive. The day Adam came for me.
"And you’re making excuses. You’re running from your fears, Sir, like you’re running from the truth."
"Which is?"
"That whatever you do to me, I cannot stop loving you. No more than I can stop breathing or living. The day I saw you swagger in to meet Abby before you shipped out on your mission? That's the day I knew you were it for me.
"Swagger ,huh?" Despite telling myself it doesn’t mean anything, I’m male enough to be pleased she used that adjective for me.
"Is that all you heard?" she scoffs.
"I also heard that you saw the person I was before I was broken."
"And I can make you whole"—she looks between my eyes—"if you'll let me."
I chuckle, and the sound is brittle. "So, you’re the woman who’s going to fill the wound I carry around, hmm? The one who’s going to tame the bad boy, the one who’s going to redeem me and—"
"Show you what it is to live again."
"And what if I don’t want that? What if I prefer to stay in the darkness?"
"Then you’re not the Sir I dream about—the man who’s larger-than-life. The bosshole who can reduce an entire meeting room to their very basic fears. The brother who loves his sister enough to come to a party she’s thrown in his honor, even though you hated every moment you were there."
I blink. "Didn’t think I was that obvious."
"To me, you were."
"So, you can read the expression on my face. Most likely, you can interpret my gestures and read between the lines of my unspoken words, as a good employee should."
She gapes. "So that’s all I am to you? An employee?"
"And my wife—by contract. You sure do give new meaning to working for me around the clock."
She pales, then shoves at my shoulder. "Get off me."
"Thought you loved me? Thought you could put up with anything I said or did?"
"That doesn’t mean you can say anything that comes to your mind. That you can insult me, and treat me like—"
"My personal fuck-toy?"
She swallows, and her breathing grows shallow.
"That turns you on, doesn’t it? Under that wide-eyed, pink-color-loving, sunshine and rainbows and butterflies persona you love to project, you’re a submissive. A dirty girl who wants to be dominated, and handled roughly, and told what to do, and fucked to within an inch of her life."
A low gasp spills from her lips, then she tips up her chin. "Yes, I love sex with you. I love how you make me orgasm. How you handle my body, how when you look at me, it’s to the exclusion of anything else in the world. I lost my father early, missed a male presence in my life, one which you are, clearly, fulfilling."
I chuckle, then lower myself within her thighs enough that the evidence of my arousal stabs into her core. "Does that look like I’m fulfilling the role of a father figure in your life?"
