it. “I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think.” His tone cuts into me, barrels over me. “You’re not here to think, darling. You’re here to obey. Is it that you’d rather go home and let your father continue on with his contract?”
The words from the contract float back into my mind with terrible clarity.
“No.” My lungs contract. I can’t get a full breath. “No, that isn’t what I want.”
“Then you’ll have to try a little harder at not being a fucking brat.” He’s in front of me again, the dark of his eyes lit with gold and flame. Maybe that darkness is anger. Maybe it’s not. “You know, I was going to give you lingerie and candles.”
“I—”
“But instead, I’ll give you what you want. I was going to give you the illusion that it was sex, but now I’m just going to fuck you.”
You can’t, I want to say. But he can. He will. And I’ll have to face the biggest fear of my life, the one I never thought would matter.
Which is that I’m a virgin, and Leo Morelli bought the rights to my virginity.
He has options, in this room. There’s his table, and his sitting area, and even the sideboard. He has options, and I don’t have any. All the things he could do line up and tumble down in front of my face.
And the worst thing—
The worst part—
The worst part is that I don’t hate the idea of them. Being afraid isn’t the same as hating. A dark want coils low in my belly. I can’t want this, can’t even fantasize about it, can’t, can’t, can’t. No part of this is a fantasy, even if my body thinks it is. Even if there’s already heat between my legs.
Leo’s still watching me. “Strip,” he says.
I pull my shirt over my head before I lose my nerve, keeping my eyes on his clothes. He wears another sweater, this one hunter green, but it’s a different knit than last night. I bite back the urge to make small talk about how often he wears a suit and an overcoat, the way he did last night, on the street. God—it was only last night, and now I’m taking my clothes off for him in his dining room, in broad daylight.
A hand around my jaw brings my attention back to the burn of his eyes. “Focus,” he orders. Oh, yes—my hands have stopped moving. Leo drops his hands and steps back to watch me wriggle awkwardly out of my jeans.
I have nothing on underneath.
The last item to go is a T-shirt bra the color of a blue robin’s egg. The only one to survive his purge last night, and only because I was wearing it. It falls to the floor next to my jeans and top. They look so sad there. So pathetic. So discarded. I can’t take my eyes off them.
“Enough with this shy bullshit. Pick your head up and look at me.”
I do it.
It’s a shock, every time, because I’ve always thought evil would make a person ugly. Leo Morelli on his worst day couldn’t be described as ugly. He’s so handsome it’s heartbreaking. My heart shatters with it all over again. So handsome. So cruel.
He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me, taking an eternity to let his eyes travel over my naked shoulders and my naked breasts and down to my stomach. I want to fold my own arms over my body, but I know he’d be awful about it.
The shivering starts right away. I brace myself for a biting comment, but Leo says nothing. He’s too busy watching my nipples pull tight. He watches and watches until finally he steps forward and pinches one between his thumb and finger.
Relief crashes into me—thank god it’s happening—and a heightened, desperate fear stomps a heel into that relief. Leo pinches my other nipple and I hear myself make a sound that I’ve never once made in front of another person.
My gasping attempt to catch my breath makes Leo laugh.
“Oh, who would have guessed?” He pinches that same nipple harder, increasing the pressure until I cry out with it and dig my nails into my thighs, hands shaking. The truth is that I want to grab at his wrist, but I don’t want to push him away.
I want to pull him closer.
“Does my dirty girl like this? Does she want more?”
A moan escapes me in response.
Then he is closer, but not touching me anymore. Leo’s gone back to circling me,