Page 107 of Westin

“What?” I whisper, horrified.

He just gives me a look and disappears under the quilt. It’s sinking in that Westin isn’t the sort of man I can tame or bend to my will.He’s hungry, and he’ll do what it takes to satisfy it. He’s not interested in hearing the word no from me or anybody else.

He makes me come until I’m begging him to stop. Then, he flips me onto my stomach, pushing a sacrificial pillow under my hips. I’m tender as he eases himself deep inside.

“Whore,” he breathes. “Beautiful whore, my whore.”

He fucks me, holding me by the nape of the neck, and I’m weak when he’s done. I lay on my back while he catches his breath, and I count the crimson kisses he left on my body.

Then, we go again. The bed is going to be a mess in the morning, but neither of us care.

Our bodies move under the sheets. The bed frame creaks. Outside, the world is frozen, but beneath the quilt, we plant seeds that will bloom into flowers when spring comes.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

WESTIN

I’m shaken by the sex we had last night, so shaken that I go into the office downstairs and take out the contract I drew up around the time I bought that ring. I think it’s time to come clean with her and talk about what I want this relationship to look like. She told me what she wants. It’s time for me to do the same.

Working quickly, I rewrite it, keeping it simple, straightforward, making sure it focuses on giving her what she needs most.

She’s still sleeping when I find her. I lay it on the bedside table and shut the door behind me.

When I come in from morning chores, she’s in the kitchen. Our eyes meet, and her cheeks go pink.

“Come here,” I say.

She dries her hands and obeys. I take her by the back of the neck and kiss her mouth, tasting the coffee on her tongue. I move my kiss from her lips to her neck. She moans, and her hand grips the front of my open coat.

“Westin,” she whispers.

I pull back. “What is it, darling?”

“I need some real clothes.”

I shrug out of my coat and lay it aside. “I like you naked.”

She gives me a look, her lips pressed together. “I’m being serious.”

I watch her body, covered in just my t-shirt, sway to the sink. The stove crackles, and the house smells like breakfast. I haven’t asked her to make food—I don’t mind making it myself, but she does it anyway. She’s a good cook, better than the Garrisons deserved.

“Sovereign and I should have the drive cleared by the end of today,” I say. “The roads are clear enough to get to South Platte.”

“Can I make a list?”

I sink down at the table. “I thought you liked calling me sir. You don’t do it outside of sex much.”

Her forehead creases. “I didn’t agree to anything yet, despite the…papers you left in the bedroom.”

“You saw those?”

“They were a bit of a shock.”

I cock my head. “So you read the part where I said I’d like you to address me properly.”

Her mouth is doing that thing again, that little twist, like she’s fighting against herself. She’s balking at the idea of being submissive. Her pride appears to have decided that desire isn’t enough.

I push my chair out and pat my thigh once. “Come here.”

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