Page 208 of It Should Have Been You

I nod, unable to find the words trapped in my throat.

He places a soft kiss to my lips before molten eyes find mine.

“You're not a possession. I don't want to own you in that way. I want to adore you.” A soft kiss. “You’re mine to cherish.” Another kiss sends tingles down my neck, and I lose my breath. “Mine to love.” Another press of his lips against mine. “You're just... mine.” He maintains his grip on my wrist, guiding it to his chest. Through his shirt, I feel the pounding of his heart. “And I'm entirely yours. From the moment you stepped into my studio, I've been yours.”

Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I don’t let them fall.

Not now.

Not tonight.

Right now, it’s just us and I want to keep it that way. I want to stay in this moment and make it last.

Arm secured around my waist, he walks me backward. When my knees hit the bed, they bend, and I sit.

“Lie back and spread your legs. I want to look at you.”

Swallowing hard, I nod, but obey with every inch of me trembling under the pressure of his touch.

In his eyes, I hear words he never needs to speak.

Here, I’m safe.

Here, in his arms, nothing can touch me.

His fingers trace over the curves of my body, dancing lower on my stomach, and I’m suddenly consumed by all the flaws I have. I feel every stretch mark and a pouch from carrying two healthy children.

“Beth,” he growls close to my ear. “Open your eyes and spread your legs because you’re fucking perfect.” My breath comes in heavy pants as I feel his hands brush my inner thigh. “I don’t know where you go when you close those beautiful eyes of yours, but I want you here.” He kisses the sensitive spot below my ear. “I want your eyes on me when I make you come on my fingers.”

My body goes lax, nothing but putty in his hold as my legs fall open and I feel the slip of his fingers between my folds. Eyes wide, my head falls back as he applies the slightest pressure to my clit and presses a firm kiss to my throat before I feel a thick finger slip inside me. Then another. I fist the bed sheets, afraid if I don’t hold on, I’ll simply melt into the fabric. As my head tilts back, he captures my chin between his fingers and lowers it, so my gaze is locked with his again. “I told you to look at me.”

I try. For a long second, I try to keep my eyes open, but Christ, it’s been so long. And I’ve never, not once, had a man touch me like this. A loud moan escapes, and this time, I don’t notice my eyes flutter closed.

“Pretty girl,” he whispers in a husky warning. “If I have to tell you again to open your eyes, I’ll put you over my knee and spank you until you’re raw. Do you hear me?”

I nod frantically as I feel the heat swarm in my belly. “Logan,” I cry, arching my back. “I think…” I don’t know what I think because I know I won’t have a coherent thought for days.

“I know, baby,” he says against my mouth, never losing his rhythm as his fingers slide in and out of me. “Come for me.”

A tidal wave of pleasure is building, so intense I feel dizzy. It's a race against time now, a battle between the discipline Logan demands and the sheer force of my own impending release. The coiled heat in my lower belly is unbearable, and my body instinctively starts to quake in anticipation.

A breathless sob slips from my lips, and I clench my teeth as the raw waves of pleasure threaten to overtake me. The promise of Logan's punishment if I disobey has an unexpected effect, only adding fuel to the fire, making my arousal spike, even more, flooding me with a kind of intoxicating, rebellious thrill.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his hot breath against my ear sending shivers down my spine, pushing me even further to the edge. “That's it, let it go. Let me feel you come apart.”

It's all too much, too intense, and I surrender to the onslaught of sensations. My entire world narrows down to this moment, to the feel of Logan's body against mine, to the intoxicating blend of pleasure and pain as I fall apart under his touch.

With one last, keening cry, I surrender completely, a starburst of ecstasy ripping through me. It's all-encompassing, all-consuming, washing over me in powerful waves that leave me breathless and spent. Through it all, Logan's voice in my ear, his touch on my skin, anchors me, a strong and steady presence in the whirlwind of sensations.

Slowly, as the pleasure begins to ebb away, I become aware of the world around me again. My heartbeat is erratic, my body heavy and sated, curled against Logan's comforting warmth. I'm a woman transformed, awakened, and there's no going back now.

In a split second, he grabs my hands and I’m on shaky legs before he spins me around. His lips meet the nape of my neck, as if he wants to taste every inch of me before he goes farther, but he stills, and I know exactly why.

My body doesn’t just bear small scars. I’m a walking reminder of the cruelty another’s hands can inflict.

I feel his breath on my back as I tense. There’s nothing for long seconds until his fingers trace the outline of the marks on my skin.

My husband liked to punish, and usually his belt was the nearest thing to hand.

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