Page 45 of Bound By Brielle (Crave & Cure Productions)

A cold drop of water hits my foot, and a chill nips at my bare, damp skin. I brace my hands on my hips. “No.”

Behind Lance, Aug appears. His dark eyes narrow in on me, his anger evident.

“Two against one, I see how it is,” I snark, but as soon as the words leave me, I know I made a mistake. Lance’s neck becomes a tree trunk as he strains forward, angry as hell, and Aug drops a palm to the top of his shoulder to steady his rage.

“Two against one?” Lance hisses, his shadow eating me up as he hovers over me. “You can be a brat all the fucking time if you want, but when it comes to your safety, there’s no room for it. Do you hear me?”

I blink. I swallow.

Lance is a grouch, that can’t be denied. But this side of him? This protective, dominant side of him is my new favorite. I only wish I didn’t have to piss him off to see it.

Well, I don’t know. Sometimes pissing him off is fun.

“On your knees,” he commands. Aug’s hand drops off as he paces backward, falling into my sofa, watching.

My pulse quickens, like my body recognizes something is happening here. SomethingbeyondLance being angry.

“If I have to repeat myself,” he warns, voice dripping with rugged and raw anger.

I don’t plan to do it and I can’t believe I do, but I do.

I drop to my knees.

“Palms on the floor. Forehead, too.”

My mouth opens, a jumble of confusion clogging my throat. “I–”

“Palms on the floor,” he repeats, drawing it out. “Forehead, too.”

I fall forward and do as he says, the tips of my fingers clinging to the top of his black boots.

“Apologize,” hedemands, and this time, I want to. I don’t know if it’s the degrading position at his feet or the anger throttling his tone but something low in my belly shoutscomply.Do it.Apologize.

The voice inside me speaks up and the last sentiment before I apologize is clear: give him what he’s asking.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from the revelation. The submissive in me is roaring at the surface, begging to be brought to life.

“What are you sorryfor?” Aug asks.

“For leaving the door unlocked.”

Lance lifts one of his booted feet and puts it on top of one of my palms. “You are apologizing fordisobeying,” he says. “Do not disobey me again. My orders keep you safe. To disobey them is to hurt us all. Do you understand?”

My throat bobs and sweat bubbles up on my spine, the damp terry cloth towel uncomfortably leaving the water on my skin. I’ve never seen this side of Lance—his dominant side—and I admit, it’s a bit strange. Definitely different than I imagined but… I like it.

“Yes,” I reply, and because the word alone doesn’t feel like enough I add, “Sir. Yes, Sir.”

A moment of quiet passes before his hand slides beneath mine and he bends over me, helping me up. When I’m back on my feet, blood and excitement draining from my head, he tightens the towel around me.

“We’ll start dinner while you get dressed,” he says before kissing me like he didn’t just have his foot on my hand, forcing me to apologize for my disobedience. God it gets me hot, how his dominance surfaced that way. I want more.

But as he swipes his tongue along mine, feeding me soft moans as his finger drags through my wet hair, I knowdominant Lanceis shelved. We pull apart and he smiles. From behind, Aug rises, grabbing two large bags off the floor.

“Go,” he says, placing a kiss on my cheek as he passes by, lowering the bags to the kitchen counter.

In my bedroom, the towel falls to my feet as I tug open a dresser drawer. My fingertips skim the fabrics peeking out; a satin tank and boxer set, a cotton shirt and pants set with red stripes, and a handful of oversized t-shirts.

I choose the satin set and dress, then face the array of hair products on my dresser. After smoothing some anti-frizz serum through my ends, I comb it out and spritz on some perfume, making the long walk to the bedroom door.

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