“Tara—”
“No, don’t, I’m not interested. I’ve given up enough for this already and never asked for any of it. I’m not giving up what little pleasure I get from these gardens on top of everything else Kellen demands from me.”
“I can’t leave you unprotected. If something happens—”
“Then where is he?”
“With his mother, but—”
I march past him toward the house. He leaps up and chases after me, but I start running. I’m in good shape and pretty fast, and he curses as he comes after me. “Hey, stop!” he calls out, but I slip into the back door and hurry through the living room before he can stop me. I hit the stairs at a sprint, taking them two at a time, make it to the top, rush down the maze-like halls, and reach the master suite. I bang on the door until Kellen materializes, frowning at me, his expression dark.
“What are you doing here?”
“You sent Rory to follow me around. Order him to stop.”
He glances over my shoulder to where Rory appears, breathing hard. “Sorry, boss, she’s faster than she looks.”
Kellen’s jaw works. He says nothing for a long time before he turns and slams the door in my face. I stand there, not sure what the hell just happened, and Rory glares at me.
“Don’t give me that look, I gave you every opportunity,” I say to him and raise my fist to pound again.
But the door opens and Kellen steps out.
“Be quiet,” he says softly. “Mother is sleeping.”
He grabs my arm and yanks me away, dismissing Rory with a wave. Poor Rory walks off, head hanging and grinning uncertainly, as Kellen pulls me down the hall.
“Where are you going?” I ask, struggling to get away. “Let me go, asshole. I don’t want a guard. I’m not putting up with that. I won’t—”
He yanks me hard into a room I’ve never noticed before and slams me up against a wall. I gasp in shock, seeing stars, and he flips on the lights. I catch a glimpse of a massive cigar humidor and a drink table laden with bottles and glasses in the corner before he yanks me from the wall and shoves me up against a pool table, spins me around, and grabs my hair so hard it burns.
I moan in surprise and pain as he pins me against the felt and holds me there.
It happened so fast. One moment, we’re walking down the hall, and the next he’s throwing me around like he owns me. The brutality and speed are shocking and terrifying, and my heart’s racing in my throat.
“You’re already making my life difficult,” he says firmly. “I wasn’t giving you an option. Rory and Angus are good men, both of them are trustworthy, and they’ll keep you alive when I’m not around to make sure you’re safe myself. This isn’t a discussion.”
“You can’t just keep doing this to me—” But he yanks my hair hard and I gasp as he shifts behind me and reaches around my hips with the other hand, unbuttoning the top button of my jean shorts.
I try to squirm away, but he holds me firm and doesn’t let me go. He’s iron and steel and I’m soft flower petal, yielding to him. His palm is rough and he’s not trying to stop himself from hurting me, and a spike of fear runs down into my guts.
“I don’t know when you began to believe I give a shit what you think and what you want. Maybe last night when I allowed myself to be even remotely vulnerable, which was a mistake I won’t make again, I can promise you that. Unfortunately, now I have to show you exactly what happens when my wife disobeys me.”
“Kellen,” I say, wriggling hard as he yanks down my shorts, and my heart’s racing wildly in my chest. I don’t know what the hell’s about to happen and I’m terrified—more afraid than I’ve been in a very long time—as he strips me to my panties. He shoves me down so my ass is hanging in the air and I feel his hand grip me from behind.
“Don’t worry,” he says, voice low and husky. “This will hurt, but I think you’ll like it.”
I whimper with embarrassment, blushing like crazy at how insanely aroused I feel, mortified by all the raw sexual excitement tearing down my spine and into my core. I’m dripping wet, absolutely drenched right now, and I want him to slip his fingers down my panties, spread my pussy wide, and take me however he wants to.
How do I like this?
How the hell do I want him to keep going, when I don’t know what he’ll do? I’m afraid, and I’m angry that he’s manhandling me and treating me like I’m his to punish, and yet it feels good to be touched and stripped and pinned.
To be controlled and dominated.
“What are you doing?” I groan.
“Accept your punishment, little wife,” he whispers in my ear, “and it’ll be much easier for you.”