Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“You’re sorry?”
His jaw clenches at my questions and I think for a moment I shouldn’t have said it. “I can’t fucking stand what happened yesterday and I keep thinking where I went wrong. I will not let a meeting interrupt us again. Never. Until I’m satisfied that you are well, no one will distract me.”
Emotions create a storm around me as he tells me, “I want you to walk me through everything that happened so I can understand. I need you to, Braelynn. I have to know where I went wrong and I think I know, but I need to be sure because what happened … it cannot happen again.”
“What if I don’t want to talk about it?” I question in a whisper.
His fork hits the coffee table with frustration.
“I am not a good man. Every rumor, every whisper you’ve ever heard … consider them to be true. Even the most fucked up. Even the most depraved. It’s all true. Knowing that, do you think I have the capacity for mercy?” The cords in his neck tense and tighten as he stares at me with a longing in his dark eyes.
“Do you think that if you don’t tell me, that I will know limits and boundaries?” His voice is tight as he whispers the question, “Do you think I’ll know when I hurt you?” My gaze slips from his lips, back up to his tortured eyes. “Because if you think I’ll know, you should run. You should run far away. If you don’t tell me, I will destroy you without even realizing it.”
Of all the things to question, all I want to know is, “Will you tell me everything too?”
“It depends on what you ask.”
My mind races with every question that’s bubbled to the surface since that first day I saw him in his office. Before I can ask a single one, Declan starts.
“Your ex hit you. And it triggered you to see me over you?”
I nod.
“Does it matter what side?”
“What?”
“When he hit you, did he always come to a certain side? Is that what did it? I need to know what triggered it, because I quite like spanking your ass when you disobey me. Do you?”
My face heats and my thumbs play with one another. “Yes. I like it when you do that.” Just talking about it brings back the lust for him and what we do.
“So … do you know if there’s something I did?”
The memories flit by and I know in an instant. “It was when I’d lie down, he’d wait and come up to the bed on my right side.”
“Do you think that’s it?” he questions after nodding.
I almost tell him I don’t know again. Instead I offer, “If I think of anything, I’ll tell you.”
He hums in appreciation. “Good girl. Now, do you like it when I call you my pet and fuck toy?”
“Yes.” My answer comes with an eagerness and I slip my hand over his. His thumb rubs soothing circles and his gaze drops for a moment to where we touch.
Rather than waiting for me to push further, he questions, “Yesterday … you didn’t like being naked in front of Joshua? Or you didn’t like the position. You didn’t like what, exactly? What was it that made you want to leave?”
I swallow thickly, remembering the embarrassment. “I didn’t like being naked in front of him … like that.”
“It will never happen again.”
“I know I was before but—”
“You do not have to explain yourself. You don’t want to be naked in front of other men. Fine. I love your body, I love that you’re mine, but showing you off isn’t something I need. It won’t happen again.”
Blinking, I let each and every statement sink in. He loves that I’m his. He said love.
“What else? There was something before that. I know there was.” He waits, hunched over the plate, the fork tapping against the table. He stares back at me expectantly.
“Sometimes I go to a dark place and I have a problem getting out of it.”
“What took you there?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. He turns away for a moment, clearly frustrated and I don’t want to lose him so I offer what I know to be true and tell him, “I just wanted you to hold me.” My answer is tight as tears brim. I drop the fork and cover my face before I can cry, hiding from him.
He doesn’t let me, though, he pulls me into his lap in an instant.
“I can do that,” he whispers into my hair and it tickles down my neck and shoulders. He shushes me, rubs soothing circles down my back and it keeps the sobs away. It only takes a moment of him rocking me, holding me close, of breathing him in, to calm whatever it was that wrecked my composure.