Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“And if I don’t?” I say, tipping my head to the side and giving him a taunting look. “Would you…” I drop my voice and lean in closer, my breasts heaving with excitement. “Spank me?”
Without missing a beat, he nods soberly. “Yes.”
I bite my lip as heat rolls through me. I squeeze my legs together, suddenly so turned on I could fuck him right here on the seat between us.
He leans over, lacing his fingers behind my neck, a move that I've come to crave. No one’s ever touched me like that before, so it’s… his. I love the possessive feel of his fingers on my skin. When he gently flexes, it’s like he’s reminding me that he could hurt me, but he won't. I hardly know the man, but what he says without opening his mouth at all speaks volumes.
“Are you going to behave yourself, Bryn?” He bends his mouth to my ear and licks the very edge before nipping the lobe. My pulse spikes, and I draw in a sharp, ragged breath. “Or do I have to make you?”
Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God. Fuckity fuck.
“Oh, I can be a very good girl,” I tell him, nodding soberly. I give a little shrug. “I can also be quite naughty.”
He runs his fingertips from my neck to my back, a gentle brush that makes me shiver and draw closer to him. “Tell me, Bryn,” he purrs in my ear, his voice deep and husky, an aural aphrodisiac. “If I were to touch you between your legs right now, part your thighs and run my fingers along your panties, would I find them wet?”
Fucking soaked.
I swallow and nod, unable to speak, as he rests one hand on my thigh, the other still traveling up and down my spine as he taunts me.
“And what if I were to take you over my lap?” he continues, his hand moving up a fraction of an inch on my thigh. “If I were to punish you, would that leave you hot and bothered and wet between your legs?”
“I don’t know,” I breathe. “I’ve never in my life been spanked, but the thought of it being you…”
I couldn’t explain why it excited me if you paid me, but every threat he makes sends frissons of excitement through me.
“That’s perfect,” he says in a low rumble. “Because I haven’t been able to get the image of you bent over my lap, squirming while I spanked you, out of my mind.”
“Oh,” I say with forced nonchalance. “Kinky bugger, aren’t you?”
He drags me onto his lap and restrains me against his chest, one arm holding me tight while he grips the back of my neck with his free hand. “You have no fucking idea, gorgeous.”
Dear God, I hope he’s not joking about that.
“This is what we’re going to do,” he whispers in my ear. “We’re going into the house, and you’ll walk in behind me.”
What? I’m pulled out of the sexy bubble in the car when he instructs me like this.
“Because I’m a woman?”
He sighs, his grip on my neck tightening. “Because I always sweep a place before I enter it. I told you, Bryn. I’m a member of the Cowen Clan. This is how we do things.” He gives me a funny look. “I’m a bit surprised you don't know that.”
I shrug, but don’t reply. I feel suddenly embarrassed by my reaction.
“I always make sure the coast is clear, that no one’s hiding or whatever the fuck. Understood?”
I nod. “Aye.”
And it's the first time since I've met him that I actually wonder if I'm in danger. My father doesn't care if I am, clearly. But this bloke’s a member of the Scottish mob. I wonder if he tried to hurt me, if he could dispose of me in a way that no one would ever find me. Does my father know I'm in danger?
Am I?
Maybe I should be more afraid. Maybe I should have some sense of self-preservation.
Was there another reason we ditched my bodyguard?
But I remind myself what my purpose here is.
I don’t want to end up with a man I don't love. I want some freedom. And if I'm going to do this my father’s way, I'm going to enjoy every fucking minute of it.
I don't trust Mac. I don't even know him. But I think that's actually part of the appeal.
So I take his hand, and I walk behind him. He goes into the flat first and puts the light on. He points to the floor where I’m standing, and I take it to mean that he doesn't want me to move. I actually consider disobeying him for a moment, just to see what he would do. But something tells me I'm going to find out tonight anyway. Instead, I watch him.
First, he slides the little box with our dessert into the fridge.