He nods contemplatively. “Aye, in the past, I’m sure. But after recent events… I think it’s time you learn to shoot.”
“Really?”
I don’t know how I feel about that, but the very thought of wielding a weapon, and Carson standing behind me, helping me to… position or whatever… sounds hot.
“Really,” he says. “You let me handle Keenan.”
I nod, then head to the bathroom and take one of my brief showers. As I shave my legs, I wonder to myself. What’s he hiding? It’s pretty clear to me that Carson’s hiding something. My earlier suspicions resurface. It isn’t possible that Carson’s the spy, is it? He has always been scrupulously honest.
The very thought troubles me. I’m angry at myself for even thinking it, but also can’t deny that it’s an important question.
As I’m pulling out clothes, I call out to him. “Did you hear from Father Finn yet? Keenan hear anything?”
“Aye,” Carson says. “Seems our suspicions were right. The man was indeed homeless, with no affiliation with the O’Gregors.”
“Thank God,” I say.
He doesn’t respond.
“Does that change anything?”
“A bit,” he says. He doesn’t elaborate.
As I finish dressing, I mull things over. What he’s said. How he’s reacted. I know he keeps to himself and he’s rather reserved, but this… is he hiding something from the Clan?
I tug on a pair of my favorite leggings and a long, flowy tunic top. I step into a pair of flats, then toss my hair up in a messy blob of a bun. I glide some lip gloss across my lips and step into the living room.
He jumps, startled when I come into the room. He’s holding a phone, but it isn’t his usual phone, a charcoal gray. This one’s black.
“New phone?” I ask. The dining area’s tidied, and everything’s put away. Damn, I’m impressed.
“No,” he says sharply when he realizes I’m there. “Loaner I’m fixing up for one of the guys.”
“Which guy?”
I wish I didn’t feel suspicious. I wish I could just trust what he said and take him at his word.
“Tully.”
“Aye, okay.”
“Megan.”
I pause, turn around, and look at him. When I do, a little bit of my breath escapes. He’s leaning back in the chair, his arms crossed over his chest. His muscles bulge, his jaw clenches. He’s leaning back with his legs spread out in front of him, emanating latent dominance.
“Come here, please.”
The way he speaks affects me, and I feel a bit shy. I walk to him on trembling legs, wondering what he’ll do when I reach him. It’s been a few days since we’ve really been together, and I’m so damn ready for this.
When I reach him, he points to the floor. “Kneel, please.”
My heartbeat quickens. I’ve never been in this position before. No one’s ever played these games with me.
Is this a game? How seriously does he take this?
“And if I don’t?” I whisper.
There’s not a trace of humor in his eyes when he answers. “I’ll punish you.”
I fall to my knees in front of him, and it feels… odd, but nice. He reaches for my chin and holds it in his warm hand, bringing my gaze to his.
“Good girl,” he says. “Why did you ask? Were you thinking of defying me?”
My pulse races and my mouth is dry, but I won’t hide the truth from him. This is new to me.
“Aye,” I say. “I’ve just… well, I’ve never been with a man like you before.”
“Like me?”
I nod. “Well, yes. I mean… dominant.”
His brows raise heavenward. “You never have?”
I shake my head. It’s not that out of the ordinary, I think, but I suppose for a man like him, it’s the natural order of things.
He gently brushes his thumb along my jawline. “That’s surprising to me. You’ve got all the best qualities of a natural submissive.”
I feel my brows draw together, but we don’t break eye contact. “How?” I ask, truly curious. “I’ve broken the rules Keenan has for the family. I talk back to you. I don’t let anyone ever push me over, and I have a mind of my own.”
He nods. “You do. And it’s that fire in you that draws me to you.” He pauses, working his jaw as if he’s thinking. “Doesn’t mean you don’t have the makings of a submissive, though.” He looks at me thoughtfully. “I’d like to try something with you, Megan.”
I nod.
“Lay your head on my knee and close your eyes.”
Still kneeling, I do what he says. I rest my head on his knee. As I do, he brushes his palm across my forehead, tucking wisps of stray hair from my face. I sigh involuntarily, sinking into this moment. I feel utterly and completely at peace.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
I do. He’s been my protector. And even though I’ve doubted things at times, it doesn’t mean I don’t trust him.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he says. “Get up and go stand in the corner.”