Page 13 of Twisted Little Thing

I can feel my heart pounding against my ribcage and my cheeks blushing. I don't know what to say or how to respond.

But apparently, I don't have to.

He observes me attentively. And he starts smirking. Triumphantly this time. As if I had given him the answer he was hoping for.

"Thank you," he says, in his usual calm and confident way.

"For what?"

My voice is low and hoarse. I clear my throat and turn my head in an effort to hide my embarrassment. "I didn't say anything..."

"You did, Nicky," he says. "The way you breathe and blush is the most beautiful answer I could have hoped for."

He squeezes my hand again, gently caressing the back of it with his thumb.

"I will make sure you will never forget this night," he whispers. "Despite your stubbornness, you have already given me many reasons to smile tonight. You deserve nothing but my best."

I am a bit perplexed by his words, but I know I am about to find out.

The limousine driver pulls into a hotel driveway, but it is not just any hotel. It is a well-known five-star accomodation that towers over the city.

"Smooth," I joke as we exit the limousine and head for the hotel's lobby. "You are either ridiculously rich or stupid – or a very successful mobster."

He laughs and takes my hand to lead me to the elevators.

"You already have a room reserved, so I assume you're not from here?" I ask, as we await the elevator’s arrival.

He turns around and looks down at me.

"No arguments," he reminds me. "And no questions. I think it's time for you to just let me take the lead. All right?"

I swallow nervously. "All right," I say weakly.

An evil smile appears on his face.

"Now," he says. "Do you think that's the way I would like you to address me?"

I look at him confused. "What do you mean?"

The elevator arrives at that moment, and the opening doors interrupt us. He beckons me to enter ahead of him, but I throw him a wary look from the side.

As soon as the doors close behind us, he surprises me by pushing me roughly against the back of the elevator.

I gasp in surprise as he forces his muscular body against me, pinning me against the wall. He is strong – and determined.

He leans down and plants a greedy kiss on my lips. I am so overwhelmed by how fast everything happens that I don't even think about pushing him away.

I don't want to anyway. He tastes so good. And his kisses are so greedy, so hungry for me, and yet so loving and gentle. I catch myself following him with longing eyes when he ends the kiss to speak to me.

"From now on," he whispers, "I want you to call me Sir. And when I ask you a question, I want you to reply with 'Yes, Sir'. Do you understand?"

I almost burst out laughing, but the seriousness with which he looks at me stops me from doing so.

"Excuse me?" I ask, arching my eyebrows with amusement. "Are you serious?"

His expression doesn’t change, and it makes me feel small and unnerved.

"Dead serious," he says. "Do you understand?"

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