Page 30 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

I sigh. He’s still gripping my hair, and if we’re ever going on a run. . .

“You told me to behave,” I say in a singsong voice. “I’m sorry. Now let me go so I can pee in peace.”

He does, in fact, let me go, but only to give me a parting slap to the ass.

“Hey!”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it,” he says, his back turned to me he pulls out clothes to dress into.

God. The arrogance of the smug, self-satisfied prick.

Why wasn’t I more careful with letting him see my reading choices? Now he has it in his head that I want to be dominated.

I go to slam the door to the bathroom for effect but think better of it in case he considers that not behaving. . . or something. And maybe. . . punishes me or something.

Do I want to be dominated?

I stare at myself in the mirror. My hair’s a mess, but the half-done braid reminds me of the feel of his fingers in my hair. My cheeks are still pink, and the color creeps all the way down to the neckline of my workout tank. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears, and the pressure between my legs after that smack to the ass is undeniable.

Yes. Yes, I definitely want this. Him.

Fuck.

I slap toothpaste on my brush and run the water while I sift through my protests, thoughts, and fears in my mind. What if my father finds out?

My father doesn’t know the first thing about me. He’s never been interested in me before, so why would he start now?

Anyway, who said we had to become a thing? It’s the modern age. We can. . . flirt.

Maybe even do a … what do they call that… friends-with-benefits thing, no strings attached.

I rinse off my toothbrush, the cool water not enough to quell the heat rising inside me. We’re supposed to be playing a married couple, I remind myself. There should be some chemistry… right?

“Are you coming out or what? How long does it take to pee?” His gruff, impatient voice invades the silence.

Argh. I’m glad he isn’t my real-life husband.

“As long as it takes!” I retort, my tone sharper than I intend. Lame.

“We have to get moving.”

“Oh, Fuck off, Markov!” I snap before I can censor myself.

Shit.

I maybe could’ve handled that better. He isn’t exactly the type that will take kindly to me smarting off to him.

When I tentatively open the door, I find him waiting in the doorway, his arms crossed on his chest. His eyes locked on mine, the challenge is clear.

“I heard that, wife.” His voice is a low, threatening purr that sends a shiver down my spine.

My heartbeat thunders.

“We don’t have time now for me to deal with you, but I’ll remember. Do you need coffee or food before we go?” he asks, glancing pointedly at his watch. “Our time is running out.”

“After. Let’s go.”

The early morning air is crisp, a refreshing contrast to the heat that flares between us as we stop outside. The sunlight is brighter than I expected, casting a glow to his tanned skin.

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