“Close your eyes and don’t move your hands when I let go. If you do—”

“You won’t let me come.”

“Exactly. Now, do it.”

My lashes lower and his hands leave my wrists, and it is all I can do not to satisfy my need to touch him, my breath panting from my parted lips. But I am motivated to comply by the way he is touching me. Everywhere, all over, and sensations roll through me, pleasure lighting up every nerve ending in my body. I can barely take it, and yet it’s not enough, and I moan with the need for something else. For that “more” he wishes me to crave, that I wish to be him inside of me.

“Kayden,” I plead, and he answers by sinking to one knee, his tongue lapping my swollen nub; then he suckles deeply, while his fingers, his amazing fingers, slide in and out of me. And my hands are too heavy over my head, my fingers knotting in my hair, the only way I can stop them from lowering to his, and I cannot control the sounds of pleasure escaping my lips. There is a swell of arousal in my belly, low, lower, and I both want to quell it and want to drive it to the next blissful place, and it does go there. To that sweet spot from where there is no return. I lose control, my fingers twining into his hair, but he does not punish me or deny my release, as I feared. He lets me touch him, his tongue and his fingers slowly easing, becoming gentler, and then slipping away as my knees all but collapse.

Kayden stands and turns off the water, then returns to me to twine fingers in my hair, pulling my head back and forcing my gaze to his. “You have to learn to follow orders. Action equals consequence. Remember that.”

“I tried, but you—”

“There is no try. There is only do, but I’ll show you. I’ll teach you.”

I’ll teach you. The words speak to the woman in me in ways perhaps they should not, but I don’t care. They just do, and he does, and when he kisses me, licking into my mouth, the sweet, salty taste of me on his lips, he does own me. I tangle fingers in his hair, and he tears his mouth from mine, giving me one of those wolfish stares as he cups my backside and lifts me.

We exit the shower, and he sits me on the counter, wrapping me in a towel before he secures one at his waist, tendrils of water that beg for my tongue sliding down his arm. He steps into me again, his hands settling on my legs, branding me as if he hasn’t already, but the wolf is gone; warm tenderness is in his eyes as he asks, “You okay?”

It’s what I’d asked him, and my lips curve with that reference and with the idea that, while he’s pushed me, he’s still protecting me, even from himself. “Yeah,” I say, “I’m okay.”

He smiles his approval and gives me a low, sexy command of “stay here” that leaves me curiously tracking his every step as he disappears into the closet.

Grinning at just about everything that just happened in that shower, I cannot contain my desire to see what the sexy “king of the castle’s” closet looks like. I slide off the counter and quickly dart in that direction, only to have him appear in the archway before I enter, now wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, with a shirt in his hand. “I told you to wait.”

I grimace at his attempt at a reprimand. “I take orders better when naked than not.”

He arches a brow. “Is that right? You’re almost naked now.”

“I have a towel.”

“I can fix that.”

I clutch it to my chest. “I want to see your closet.”

“See it when you move your things in tomorrow.”

I blink, certain I’ve misheard. “What?”

He slides the shirt over my head and I slip my arms inside, my towel falling to the ground. “That’s so I can concentrate and give you a chance to make a decision.”

“Decision?”

“Either you’re in my bed or you’re not. I want you in it.”

I am pleased. I am confused. I am so many things with this man that I can’t even begin to define. “But you left last night.”

“Fucking some random woman and wanting you in my bed are two different things. I had to come to terms with what that meant for me. I have. Now it’s your turn.”

“What it means for you? If the answer is that I open raw wounds, I’ll choose nothing. If the answer is it lets you protect me and that is all you want and need, I’ll choose nothing.”

“I want you in my bed, Ella. I’ve said that to no one in a very long time. Why do I want you there? I just do. That’s the only answer I have for either of us. It’s back to you. Choose, Ella. Now.”

I just do. It’s my answer exactly, and perhaps the only one either of us can give this early in our time together. My decision made, I turn and walk into the bedroom and don’t stop moving until I’m in his bed, under the covers. By the time I am, he is joining me, making it clear he’s not leaving tonight. He lowers the lights, casting us in the dim glow of the fireplace, and moves close to me.

“Right here,” he says, wrapping me in his arms, my back to his front, and I am suddenly warm and sheltered, and he feels right in ways that make my lost memory second to this and him. But I do not miss the way he holds me a little too tight, as if he’s certain someone, or something, will soon rip me from his arms. And the truth is, I fear the same.

eighteen

I wake to the dull thrumming of more rain, not sure where it’s coming from, and I don’t care. Kayden is wrapped around me and I have zero desire to wake up. My lashes lower and I will myself back to sleep, the thrum of the rain a song lulling me into slumber, and suddenly I am back in that hotel room moments after David left. It is the moment after he’d gone and I’d ripped the butterfly from my neck.

Appalled at what I have done, I stare at the necklace on the floor, stumbling forward and falling to my knees. I grab the butterfly, and frown as I find a piece of paper sticking out of the back. I tug on it and stare at the handwritten words.

I blink drowsily, my gaze catching on the fireplace, and Kayden shifts behind me, his hand slipping under my shirt to flatten on my belly. I cover it with mine and hold on tight, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to force my mind back into that hotel room where I can read the words on that piece of paper. Instead, I am transported back to a moment with him.

He is angry. He is always angry. He is also at my back, stalking me as we walk down a hallway in a club he says I will soon enjoy as he does. There was a time when he would have said such a thing to me and I’d have believed him. That time has passed. The path ends and he punches a code into the door panel, an odd thing in a club, but of course, he wouldn’t frequent any place that isn’t exclusive in every possible way. The door buzzes open and I enter what looks like a small, round coliseum, stepping past two huge pillars to find a naked woman with long, dark hair, on her knees, with her arms tied to some sort of posts. I gasp and turn to leave, but he steps in front of me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“You need to see what happens if you disobey me again.”

“I already promised I’d listen from now on.”

He caresses my cheek and I cringe. He notices and is not pleased, his fingers digging into my arm as he turns me to face forward. “You watch. You learn. If you move right now, you will become her.” He shoves me to my knees, his legs at my spine, and my gaze meets the woman waiting for whatever punishment is soon to be hers, but she is not afraid as I am. She welcomes it. She wants it. A door opens to the left, and a beautiful blond woman in leather holding a whip enters the room.