me.
“Or what?” I finally snap.
He jerks his head around, his jaw firm and eyes flinty. “Or you’ll sleep on your belly tonight.”
I don’t even know what comes over me. I don’t even know if I could explain why I’m so furious. Before I know what I’m doing, my second shoe’s sailing across the room straight at him. He catches it mid-air.
He whips it to the floor and prowls after me.
Crap.
I back up until the backs of my legs hit the sofa, and still he stalks nearer. He shrugs out of his suit coat, and tosses it to a chair. I scramble onto the sofa, scoot down the length of it, and stand on the other side.
“Leave me alone.”
Still he doesn’t speak.
I watch as his fingers begin unfastening the cuff at his wrist.
Why does that turn me on, even as my heart thunders in my chest? How can such a casual move be threatening?
The button falls away and he folds the cuff.
My eyes dart around the room.
With a little squeal, I decide to make a dash past him, but I’m not fast enough, and he’s ready for me. Just as I run for the bedroom, his arm loops around my waist and he holds me mid-air. I kick my legs and fight him, but he’s way more powerful than I am. He drags me to the bedroom and tosses me onto the bed. I bounce, my dress rips, and I scramble away from him, but he grabs my ankle and yanks me back.
“Let me go! Let me go or I’ll scream!”
“Ah, no you don’t,” he says with an almost casual shrug. Completely unaffected. “Not today, lass.”
With one hand he flips me over onto the bed so I’m on my knees. I fall forward and brace myself on my hands as his palm slams against my arse.
“Ow! Hey! Don’t you dare!”
But before I can say another word, he spanks me again. Of course he does.
“I did not come all the way here,” he grates, with another smack of his palm. “So that you could act the brat and endanger yourself.” Another searing smack. I’m wriggling in protest but he holds me so firmly on the mattress I can’t get away. “Don’t push me, Fiona. I promised you my folded belt across your arse if you earned it, and you’re one second away from just that.”
I don’t know what comes over me, if it’s the temper I inherited from this flaming red hair—it’s a thing! — or if I need to see if he means it. Or maybe, for some reason I can’t quite fathom, I need to know he means what he says, for I kick my feet, don’t bother holding back, and scream as loud as I can, “You can fuck all the way off, Lachlan McCarthy!”
He doesn’t speak but goes very still. That’s when I start to wonder if I’ve lost my mind.
Without a word, he releases me. Is it over?
I’m too stunned to move at first, and this is a strategic error on my part. He’s clearly an expert at removing his belt. In a flash, the folded leather leaves his waist. I try to scramble away, but he grabs my leg and yanks me back, all the way off the bed so my feet hit the floor and my belly pushes up against the corner of the bed.
Now I’m second guessing my wild mouth and furious rage.
“Okay, okay, I didn’t really mean that,” I begin. “Lachlan, I’m sorry, I swear I don’t know what got into me.”
Still, not a word. Effortlessly, he gathers my wrists in one of his hands and pins them to my lower back. He yanks up my dress and tears my knickers clean off me. I crane my neck around to see his face tight with determination, jaw clenched.
Oh God.
I’m pressed against the bed, the corner pushed into my belly, when without a word he snaps the folded leather across my arse.
It hurts, the bite of leather on my bare skin searing into me, and for a moment my mind clears. I can’t think, I can’t talk, I’m suspended in time when he spanks me a second time, then a third, until I’m squirming on the bed and my arse is on fire.
After the fourth searing lash, he taps his belt on my arse.
“I don’t want to whip you,” he says, but I can feel his hardened length against me.
“Oh yeah?” I throw back at him. “Then why did you get a hard-on from