“Who?”

“You,” I repeat, my voice nothing more than a whisper. I should be more upset, worried of what this knowledge means for us, but strangely, I’m not. When it comes to Rebel, I can’t seem to hold onto my anger. The instant he uses that deep, sexy voice, I’m a goner.

Rebel’s actions belie any hint of anger he might be feeling right now. If he’s upset with me, he’s not showing it. Instead, he’s using my inability to deny him against me.

Any anger or fear I might have felt a moment ago is quickly forgotten as white-hot desire blooms throughout my body. This is the Rebel I first met at the hotel, the one who rules my body and mind with his voice alone. I find myself craving his touch, wanting nothing more than to be at his mercy.

“That’s right, pussycat. Me.” Taking my hand in his, he presses it against his rock hard erection. “Just as this belongs to you.” My eyes flip up to find his and despite my earlier conviction, I see the truth bearing down on me. “Just you, Josephine. There isn’t anyone else.”

I know what I saw, and yet I’m torn by my desire to believe what he’s telling me. I may just be lying to myself, but Rebel’s earnest gaze commands me to listen, to hear his truth. And I do. I hear it loud and clear. It clashes completely with the imprint in my mind, but rather than one truth, there are now two jockeying for position in my head. I’m left to decide whether or not I believe me…or him.

A nerve in Rebel’s jaw ticks as he watches me struggle with my thoughts. With a low growl of frustration, he makes a vow. “I don’t know what you think you saw that night, but it’s not what it looked like. I have more integrity than to do that to you or anyone.

“I’ll admit, there was a time when Florence and I were together,” he continues, “but I was young and naïve then. I haven’t seen her in months.

“There’s more to the story than what you told me, and I promise you, I’ll get to the bottom of it. But,” he says, pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger and angling my face up to his, “not tonight. Tonight, you’re mine.”

Crushing his lips against mine, Rebel forces his tongue into my mouth. True to form, he’s not going slowly. He’s not going easy on me. Rebel conquers my mouth in the same manner he will my body—hard, fast, and thoroughly.

“Never walk out on me again,” he growls between kisses. Baring down on me, Rebel plunders my mouth, his tongue darting in and out, licking and teasing, his teeth nipping my bottom lip.

I don’t realize we’re moving until my back crashes into the wall. Pinned between it and Rebel’s unforgiving, relentless pursuit, I have no choice but to surrender. Bending down, Rebel grasps the backs of my thighs and hoists me up. Automatically, I wind my legs around his waist and wrap my arms around his shoulders.

The feel of Rebel’s hard length pressing against my needy core sends a ripple of heat surging through me. Moaning into his mouth, I press tighter to Rebel’s body, trying to soak up as much of him as I can. The need to be closer, to feel his naked skin against mine, is inherent.

Rebel’s questing hands tear at my clothing, delving beneath the thin night shirt and skating up my ribcage to pull it over my head. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he takes my naked breasts into his greedy palms. His eyes blaze with hunger and I throw my head back, gasping his name, as he draws a nipple into his mouth.

Spearing my fingers into his hair, I hold him to me as his tongue circles each taut peak. His teeth bite down gently, sending arrows of pleasure straight to my core. I can feel myself climbing toward release. My head is spinning, every nerve ending firing, and just when I am about to reach the point of no return, my muscles clamping down in preparation, Rebel releases me.

“No, don’t stop,” I cry out, grasping his shoulders, trying to bring him back.

Rebel’s full lips are flushed a deep shade of rose and tilt up in a mocking smile. “You’re a poor hostess, pussycat. You haven’t offered your guest the grand tour.”

My eyes bug out in disbelief. “You want a tour now?”

“How else do you expect me to plot all the surfaces I plan to fuck you on?”

Oh. Renewed excitement ignites inside me. Taking his hand, I pull him through the apartment, giving him the fastest tour on record. “You already know the living room. The kitchen is over there,” I say pointing to it as we pass by on our way into the short hallway. “And down here is the bathroom on your left, guest room on your right, and this room,” I say, throwing open the door to the last door at the end of the corridor, “is my room.”

Turning on my heel, I take hold of Rebel’s waistband and tug him flush against my naked breasts. That damned smirk of his stares back at me and my stomach twinges with nerves. Whenever Rebel looks at me like that, I feel so exposed, yet so damn thrilled. Having his full attention is an aphrodisiac in itself.

“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes,” I tell him as I undo his belt buckle. Dragging the strip of leather free, I fold it in half. Holding both ends, I buckle the material, creating a gap between the two halves, and then pull both ends out in a swift motion. The leather cracks loudly, and I smile as I back up toward the bed. “I’m feeling particularly naughty tonight, Mr. Scott.”

Rebel stalks toward me as he lifts his sweater up and over his head. My gaze drops to his chest, and I lick my lips at the sight of all that bronzed skin.

I’m nervous. We’ve done this before, but never quite this way, never for this purpose. But this is all I have to give, the only way I can think to show him how I’m feeling inside. It’s my way of apologizing as much as it is to bridge the gap that formed in my chest the night I saw him with her. I need that deeper connection to him right now, something raw and powerful enough to obliterate that night from my mind.

Rebel reads me perfectly, understanding want I from him. “You’ve been bad, pussycat.”

Drawing the corner of my lip between my teeth, I peer up at him from beneath my lashes and nod coyly. “Yes, sir.”

Standing shirtless before me, Rebel removes the belt from my fingers and takes a step back. There’s a cruel edge in his dark eyes when he says, “You know what happens to naughty girls. Drop your underwear.”

I do as he says, anticipation fluttering inside my stomach like hundreds of butterflies taking flight. Slipping my fingers into the elastic waistband, I roll my panties down my legs to my ankles and then step out of them.

“Now place your hands on the mattress, bend over, and spread your legs.”

Following his instructions, I plant my hands on the bed, my fingers fisting the duvet as I set my feet shoulder width apart. My heart is pounding in my chest as I wait for him to begin.

“Since you chose to go against my wishes and allowed another man to touch my pussy, I’ve decided ten should do the job.”

So many. Oxygen gets trapped in my lungs. I tip my head once, prepared to take the punishment. Even though there will be a modicum of pain involved, I want this. It’s not abuse, but a way for us to grow closer. Neither of us is good with our words. This is my way of letting both of us shed our frustration and resentment. Whether he meant to or not, he hurt me, and even though he’ll never admit it out loud, I hurt him, too.

I haven’t taken a full breath yet, when the leather strikes.

“One,” Rebel says, his voice smooth as silk.

He doesn’t hit hard enough to damage the skin, but it smarts. My shoulders tighten and I take a shuddering breath.

“Two.”

I close my eyes, centering my thoughts as I count down with him.

“Three. Four. Five.”

By the time Rebel reaches ten, I’m sagging. My ass burns like hell and at some point I must have started holding my breath, because my head is so light I feel like I might pass out.