Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
She closes the distance between us and falls into me.
“I won’t let you go,” she says against my chest. “I won’t. I refuse.”
“Oh, Skye…” I kiss the top of her head.
She eases back and meets my gaze. “We didn’t work this hard to be together just to have it torn away from us. By Beau Reardon? By Peter and Garrett? No way, Braden. I don’t accept this. Not for a fucking minute.”
“You don’t have a choice.” I shake my head. “Neither of us does.”
“Bullshit.” She pounds her fist on my chest. “If it would truly be torture to live without me, why would you subject yourself to that?”
“For your safety.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“What if I hadn’t come tonight?”
“You did.”
“Damn it! Fight fair, Skye.”
“Why should I? You’re not.”
I level my gaze on her. “I always fight fair.”
“Not with me. It’s your way or the highway, always. Well, not tonight, Braden. We’re not in the bedroom at the moment, and this time I’m getting my way.”
The only other woman I loved this much was my mother, and I lost her. Lost her because I didn’t protect her. I’ve come to terms with that. Sort of. I was a stupid kid. But I’m a man now. A man, and it’s my duty to protect the woman I love.
I succeeded tonight, but the next time, I might not.
“I can’t lose you,” I say, my voice resigned. “Not like I lost her.”
She curls her hands into fists. “I’m not your mother, Braden.”
I sigh. “I know.”
“She made a choice. She chose you. I’m making that same choice. You want to condemn us both to torture without each other? I won’t let you.”
“I didn’t keep her safe,” I say into her hair. “I lost her.”
She pulls back and grips my shoulders. “You were six years old, for God’s sake! Are you going to hold a child to some insurmountable standard?”
“Don’t you?”
It’s a fair question. Skye is still holding herself responsible for her parents’ separation to some extent.
“No,” she says, her tone full of resolve. “Absolutely not. My parents’ separation was not my fault.”
I tilt my head. Look into her warm brown eyes. And I believe her. I believe her words with all my heart. Her journey is far from complete, but she’s moving forward. And with each step, she understands herself a little better.
“And your mother’s death was not your fault, Braden. It isn’t. It never was.”
I cup her cheek, then, running my thumb over her top lip.
I’m on a journey as well. It takes time. A lot of steps. A lot of rocks to climb, bridges to cross.
Perhaps it will be slightly less difficult to have someone beside me.
“I won’t give you up,” she says. “You’ll protect me. And I’ll protect you. That’s how it is when you love someone. We both have an equal obligation to each other.” She covers my hand with hers.
What seems like an eternity passes between us, our gazes locked.
How is it possible to love someone more each moment you’re in her presence?
Finally, I smile. It’s weak, but it’s a smile. “I’ll never truly control you, will I?”
She moves forward and brushes her lips against my cheek. “Braden, did you ever honestly believe you would?”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Black Rose Underground. My private suite.
Skye wears only platform stilettos and black-and-red lace panties.
“Lie down on the table,” I say darkly.
A black sheet sits on top of the leather table. I’ve prepared for something. Her nipples are hard.
I flash back to the last time we were in this room—that horrid evening when we almost ended for good because of something she wanted. Something I can never give her.
This lifestyle means as much—perhaps more—to me as it always has.
What it means to Skye has changed, though. Play is play.
It’s not punishment for anything she did in the past.
If I punish her, it’s because she disobeys me during play. And part of her loves to be disobedient.
She lies down as commanded, my diamond choker around her neck—a symbol of who she belongs to when she’s here.
“Hold this.” I place a black leather flogger next to her hip.
She grasps it in her hand, her body shivering.
I proceed slowly, despite the fact that I know she’s excited to move forward. “I’m not going to bind you tonight,” I say. “You have only your obedience to me in this room to hold yourself still as I do what I do. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she says.
“I’ve never given you a safe word. I give you one now.”
“Okay, but I don’t think I’ll need it.”
“Just in case,” I say. “Your safe word is ‘always.’ Because you’re mine. Always.”
“Always,” she repeats softly. “And you’re mine. Always.”
“I am. I never thought I’d want to belong to another person, but I’m yours. Always.”
She smiles, and she reaches forward—
I grab the flogger from her and whip her hand away.