Page 37 of Sacred Vow

“You are.” I grin. “Good girl.”

Her eyelids flutter. She turns her face away, but I catch the expansion of her pupils and the fresh blush on her cheeks before she does.

My cock stiffens. Jerking off in the shower last night after I tucked her in did nothing to tamper my hunger for her.

I reach for the waistband of her jeans and pull her closer to me. She stumbles with the force and breaks her fall with her hands on my chest. I keep my grip on her jeans as she tries to push away.

“Not yet, Isolde.” I work the button of her jeans open and unzip the front.

“What are you doing?” She grabs at my wrists.

I freeze, bringing my eyes to level with hers. She swallows.

“Don’t get in my way. Keep your hands at your sides.”

“What are you doing?” she asks again. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” That little blush deepens when the meaning of her protest becomes clear.

“I’m not going to spank you.” I grin. “Not now anyway.”

“You shouldn’t have done it before, either.”

“If you don’t want any more bad girl spankings, then don’t be a bad girl.” I shove her jeans over her hips and let them fall to her feet. Two suitcases of her clothes were brought over this morning, but I haven’t given them to her yet. I’m debating if I want her clothed at all. Ever.

She raises her chin, probably ready to protest her innocence, but I place my finger over her lips.

“Step out of your pants and kick them over there.” I jerk my head toward the desk. “Unless you’ve become frightened that I’ll prove you wrong?”

That stubborn glare of hers shows up, and she follows my instructions.

“Good girl,” I say again, and she pinches her lips together. She’s a smart girl; she’s perfectly aware of how much that little phrase is making her wet.

I reach for the hem of her t-shirt, and again, she grabs my wrist. This time it only takes a glance to get her to release me.

Once her shirt is off and tossed across the room, I take her in. She’s wearing a simple black bra. No padding, no wires. On another woman, it might look plain, but on Isolde it’s the perfect accent to the beauty that is her.

“Is black your favorite color?” I ask, pressing my fingertips to her torso and sliding them around her.

“This was a gift,” she answers just as my fingers find the clasp.

“From?” I undo the clasp, touching her bare skin and dragging her bra forward as I move to the front of her body.

She raises her chin, firms her stare. She’s going to lie.

“A guy.”

I don’t even hide my smile. She’s trying to make me jealous.

If it were true, it would work.

I don’t like the idea of another man touching her like this.

I never did. But it was never okay for me to say anything, to step in. She was never meant to be mine.

And she probably still isn’t.

But I’m a greedy bastard, and I’ve had enough of denying myself.

I lock her eyes with my gaze and slide the straps of her bra off her arms until the cups drop from her breasts. Tossing the bra away, I stare into those expressive eyes of hers. Her pupils have expanded to twice their size.

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