She gasps, jumping slightly. Her breath turns to shallow intakes.
I keep my fingers pressed firmly around her, and she squirms on my lap, her skin turning hotter. I press my forearm over her thighs.
"Stop moving, Blakely. You don't have permission," I state.
She furrows her brows, her defiance growing.
And it's just where I want her. She's always been independent. Hugh's biggest problem was not being able to control her. He'd only admit it to me after several rounds of drinks. So it'll be even sweeter when he learns that his daughter will listen to any command I give her. Of course, it'll be when he's at his lowest point, having already lost it all.
Yes, I'm going to turn Blakely into the submissive she's dying to be, only this will be different from all the other women I've broken and trained. She won't only be for my pleasure. She's a weapon, and I'll use her to my full advantage.
She murmurs, "I don't want to be told what to do, Riggs."
I drag my eyes down her body, homing in on the only parts covered by her scant clothing. When I meet her eyes again, I retort, "Oh, but you do."
She shakes her head. "No."
I softly chuckle. "You don't know what you want. But you were on stage, willing to be bid on by strangers."
She opens her mouth, then shuts it and turns away.
I move her chin, forcing her to look at me. "A year, Blakely. Whatever you've been doing to survive, stop doing it. Focus on your music. And me."
"You?" she asks.
"Yes. Me. And I focus on you. Isn't that what you wanted all those years ago?" I taunt.
Her cheeks deepen to a maroon.
I quickly add, "What we both wanted."
My admission seems to momentarily appease her, but then she continues to contemplate the situation.
I switch gears and put her on her feet. I rise and state, "Okay. I guess I read the situation wrong. You're not interested. Your ride's outside."
She swallows hard and doesn't move, not flinching or retreating.
"Time to go, Blakely," I claim and point toward the front door.
I wait for a minute, expecting her to tear her gaze off mine, but she doesn't. It only makes me want her more. I slide my arm around her waist, moving her toward the door, and say, "It was nice seeing you. Our trip down memory lane is now over."
She pushes away from me. "Riggs! Wait!"
My pulse quickens. I keep my neutral expression and cross my arms over my chest. "What is it? I don't have time to waste, Blakely. And I'm not into teases."
"Teases? I'm not—"
"Let's not act like there's nothing between us. You aren't in your father's house anymore, and I don't give a damn what he thinks," I admit.
"Why?" she cries out.
Her question takes me by surprise. I stay quiet.
"Tell me why you don't care about what he thinks anymore," she demands.
I contemplate telling her the truth, but I never lay all my cards on the table. Plus, the less anyone knows, the better. Even my accountant and Jones knowing the truth are two too many people who know. I reply, "I have my reasons."
Her expression hardens.