Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I tamp down the urge to set things straight. To tell her my expectations. To discuss hard limits.
I’ll never be one to go for a modern relationship. It’s not who I am.
The first time I discovered I’m a dominant, I felt as if a whole world opened up to me. Fabien was the one who took me to a club in Paris. The first night there I knew. This was where I belonged.
I need to be the one in charge. I’m the one who needs to protect. To command.
Call it old-fashioned, but I know who I am. I know what I like. I know what I need.
My job is to protect her, no matter the cost.
Even if she hates me.
I open my mouth to respond, to tell her off. I snap it shut again.
She isn’t mine.
If Savannah was mine…
My phone rings. I glance down. Lyam.
“Yeah?”
“Coast clear. Let’s go.”
I jerk my chin at her. “Come here.”
I take a quick minute to send Lyam a text. I’ll need a few things for this trip.
“I really wish you’d learn to treat me half decently,” she snaps.
I turn to her and imagine what it would be like to hold her down, strip her, and fuck her until she doesn’t have a single thread of resistance left in her.
I swallow the urge and reach for her.
“My job is to keep you alive,” I tell her honestly. “I don’t care what the fuck I have to do to make that happen. You’re not mine, Savannah, and we’ve covered what that would look like if you were.” I close the mental door on that fantasy so quickly it splinters. “But your sister and brother-in-law have asked me to take care of you. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Maybe,” she seethes through gritted teeth, “I don’t want your protection.”
Without thinking, I take hold of her wrists and pin them to her sides.
Upstairs, a door opens. I hear the gentle padding of light footsteps.
“Lyam? Thayer?”
Maman.
She can’t see us from here, but she likely can’t sleep, either, knowing that Savannah’s in danger.
I yell over my shoulder, holding Savannah’s gaze. “We’re leaving now, Maman. I’ll fill you in later.”
Savannah’s eyes spark fire. “Tell him to be nice to me, Mrs. Gerard!” she yells. Of all the—
“Thayer doesn’t listen to me, darling!” Maman yells. “But you’ll be safe with him, I promise! Just do what he tells you, he’ll do anything to keep you safe.”
I give her a triumphant look.
“Her, too?” she says in a heated whisper.
I give her a look that says I told you so.
“You don’t have to be so rough,” she protests.
“Savannah,” I whisper in her ear. “If you think this is rough, lovely, you have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“Oh, bragging now, are we?” But the pink blush on her cheeks gives her away. She looks at me as if she’s too proud to admit she wants to know just exactly what rough can be.
Her torn clothing’s so thin and flimsy, I can see the outline of her breasts. When I touch her skin, goosebumps erupt, as if I’m drawing an uncontrollable reaction from her. I can feel her pulse pounding against my fingers.
She smells of roses.
The car’s waiting. Her pursuers may have discovered her identity, if not her whereabouts. We need to go.
“From now on,” I say in a slow, measured tone, “you’re under my protection. You gave up any control when you walked through that door.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” I wonder if I imagine the curiosity that sparks in her eyes.
I pull her closer to me. “It means I expect you to obey me. Even though I don’t own you, your choice to seek my protection means there are consequences for disobedience.” Heat flares between us, a fusion of anger and arousal, fury and need. The reality of her situation seems to strike her all at once, as her mouth parts. I stare at her lips. I want to lick them, bite them, stroke my tongue against hers until she moans. “I want to make this very clear, Savannah. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Do you understand me?”
Her jaw opens in protest. Closes and swallows. Finally she shakes her head and snaps, “You are so full of yourself.” She presses her lips together as she glares at me and likely weighs her options.
I have no more patience.
“I didn’t ask you your opinion of me. I asked if you understood. Now, either tell me you do, or we start over, and this time, we’ll have this discussion with you over my knee.”
This time, her outrage is unmistakable. Her breathing quickens as she apparently plays this all out in her mind.
She might hate me, but maybe she likes the idea of being over my knee.
When she speaks, her voice is low and throaty.