His gaze traced over the curves of my face before landing on my lips. My pulse raced, and he was so close, I could barely breathe.
“You can do whatever you want to,” I uttered.
“Hmm.” It was the perfect answer because sinful darkness danced in his eyes. “Maybe I want to punish you for screwing up my plan.”
Did he mean his plan of getting me naked?
The air in his study was thick with lust, and Clay’s strong hand cupping the back of my head made it hard to think straight. I pictured myself in cuffs, bound to his beautiful St. Andrew’s cross downstairs while he teased and tortured.
He tilted his head a single degree, adjusting to a better angle to plant his lips over mine. “Would you like that?”
My body was clamoring for it. “Yes.”
A smile curved his mouth. He already knew my answer. “Is that what you need? A little bit of discipline?”
Awareness lurked in the back of my mind. He was older and obviously more experienced, but my eagerness made me ignore the warning. I was hungry for his kiss, looking forward to whatever punishment he wanted to dole out. “Yes,” I whispered.
He slid his hand away and stepped back so abruptly, I swayed at the sudden absence of him.
“All right.” His tone was cool and indifferent. “Then, you’ll get dressed right now and go home.”
FOUR
My heart thudded to a stop. One second ago, Clay’s lips had been a scant inch from mine, and now he was gone.
“What?”
He said it plainly. “You wanted to be punished. I’m punishing you,” he casually tossed a hand toward me, gesturing to my nakedness, “and I don’t want to encourage this behavior.”
My body refused to move, so I stood there dumbfounded and with my mouth hanging open. “Are you kidding me?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
No, he certainly didn’t.
His expression was fixed, and all the heat between us dissipated in an instant. My brain couldn’t process what had just happened. How had he turned himself off so quickly? Disappointment descended on me like an avalanche, and hot irritation quickly followed.
I closed my mouth with an audible snap, and as I reached for my clothes in a huff, the last thing I expected to hear from him was a deep, satisfied chuckle. But that was what he did, and the sinful sound reverberated through me.
“Look at you,” he said darkly. “All upset you didn’t get your way.”
My hands slowed. What the fuck? He was being an asshole, and I glared at him, ready to unleash my tongue—
“God, you’re even hotter when you pout.” Seduction threaded his voice. “You’re so fucking hot, Lilith, I can’t even stand it.”
What?
He gave me emotional whiplash, and I blinked rapidly, trying to understand him. But it was impossible because he stared at me now like a starving man, his expression dripping with desire, and all thoughts emptied out of my mind.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he declared. “Turn around. Put your knees on the seat of the chair.”
I was still processing his command when he grasped my elbow and guided me to the leather wingback chair I’d been sitting on when he came home. He set his fingertips on my back and eased me forward, until I had my knees buried in the cushion and my forearms draped over the top of the chair.
It caused an arch in my back, and my bare bottom jutted out toward Clay, and he skated a finger along my spine, tracing a line from my shoulders to my hips. And then his featherlight touch was gone.
“You want to be punished.” It was a statement, but it was clear he was waiting for confirmation from me, so my head bobbed in a nod. “Good,” he said. “I hope you’re not fragile.”
His hand came down quickly, and although the smack of his palm against my ass sounded loud, his blow fell painlessly across my skin. A stunned smile buzzed my lips. I’d never really been spanked before, and this was what I’d hoped for. Part of me was disappointed I wasn’t bound to the beautiful cross he’d built, but the rest of me was pleased. I’d yearned to sexually explore, and it didn’t matter that much where or how it happened.
I was grateful he was willing to partner with me.
Clay spanked my ass again, and this one had more of a kick to it, but I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling. Was that supposed to hurt? Because it didn’t, not by a longshot. I understood, though, how he was testing me. Better to start soft and build up to it, rather than do too much, have to back down, and potentially scare me off.
His palm cracked against me once more, and this one was serious enough to make my body jolt—but it was simply from the force of it and not in pain. My breath came and went in quick bursts, but otherwise I didn’t make a sound. Could he tell my short breath was caused by anticipation and not discomfort?