Page 49 of The Unplanned Wedding

I gasp.He revealed something personal about himself. And did he say tortured? And in such a casual voice?I try to conceal my horror but don’t succeed, for when I speak, my tone is shocked, "What happened?"

"We were behind enemy lines and had been trudging through the frozen forests on the southern edge of the tundra for days. We had information about insurgents who we knew were in hiding. We knew it would be difficult to track them down in the dead of winter but hadn’t realized just how much the weather would slow us down. There was a snowstorm. We got separated from the rest of our team and were captured by the enemy."

He falls silent. And though there's no trace of emotion on his face, the flicker in his eyes betrays just how difficult the experience must have been.

When he doesn’t speak for another few seconds, I clear my throat. "But you escaped?"

He wraps his fingers around his tumbler of whisky. "We did. But not before the two of us had many weeks to think hard about our lives and what we wanted out of it when we got out of there. It was the fact that we had each other’s backs that kept us going." His jaw is hard, his featuresalmost expressionless, except for the nerve that throbs at his temple. There's a faraway look in his eyes.

Once more, he lapses into silence. I see the bleakness that creeps across his face and decide to stay quiet this time. Best to let him take his time to parse through his thoughts. It’s another few minutes before he murmurs, "The worst part is not having control over your future.” He swallows. “Not knowing if you’ll wake up to see another day, and then waking up to find you're still caught in the nightmare." His voice is hard.

For someone like him, not knowing what was going to happen to him next would have been unthinkable. Is that why he likes to have control when it comes to sex? Is that why he thrives on being a Dom, knowing he can direct every aspect of how he gives and take pleasure? Is proclivity for kink a way of dealing with the uncertainty he’s been through? I want to believe that, but my instinct says he always had that cruel yet caring streak in him. It was, likely, what made him a good Marine. It’s likely that contradiction got him through his missions. And his experiences feed his proclivities. The silence stretches. I cast about for something to say, then settle on something which I hope will encourage him to keep sharing.

"It must have been hard," I venture. My words are nothing in comparison to what he must have gone through. But I can’t help wanting to try to soothe the horrific memories that must be cascading through his mind right now.

The skin across his knuckles stretches. "It was. But we were lucky; we had each other. If not we—I wouldn’t have made it out." His lips thin.

"How… How did you escape?"

His expression becomes even more impenetrable. "They tortured James to the point that his heart stopped. Then they threw him into my cell, probably to break my spirit. Only the ol’ codger had life left in him. I resuscitated him, but he pretended to be lifeless. It gave us a chance to plan our breakout. We overpowered our guards, then grabbed their weapons and shot our way out of there. We were picked up by a search party.

His jaw ticks. I’m sure he’s leaving out vast swathes of what happened, but I’m also shocked he shared so much with me. He raises the tumbler to his mouth and tosses it back, then sets the glass back on the table with a thump. When he looks up at me, there’s surprise on his face.

"You’re easy to talk to," He frowns. Anger flickers across his eyes,spiked with confusion. His gaze is unblinking, and I can’t help but squirm under the force of it.

I try to look away but, oh my god, the force of his personality pins me in place. The skin around his mouth tightens, and he seems almost displeased. "You’re not eating," he points out. The rough edge of his voice pulses frissons of awareness up my spine.

"I… Uh… I'm not hungry anymore."

Without breaking the connection between our eyes, he raises his hand. The next second, the Maître d,’ who must've been hovering out of sight, glides over. He clears away our plates, handing them to another uniformed staff-member, then slides a plate which another staff-member had wheeled in, onto our table. He places one spoon next to it, then fades away.Why only one spoon? Shouldn’t there be?—

My unspoken question is answered when my boss dips the spoon into the chocolate dessert. The flick of his wrist as he wields the spoon, the deft curl of his wide fingers around the narrow, delicate handle, the glimpse of arm hair revealed when his shirt sleeve rides up and exposes his wrist bone…Oh my god!I’m burning up. My throat goes dry. All the moisture has been pulled into that place between my legs. My pussy throbs, and my clit feels like there are weights attached to it. He holds my gaze, and the intent in them sends a lick of desire up my spine. Even before he can raise his eyebrow in question, I lean forward.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he scoops up some dessert and holds the spoon out to me. "Open."

17

Knox

Without hesitation, she parts her lips, and blood drains to my groin. Her obedience is going to be my downfall. The satisfaction I get from feeding her is dangerous. The pleasure I get from the simple act of being with her is going to be my undoing. Everything I’ve guarded against—the vulnerability, the susceptibility to being hurt—all of it seems very real.

I will not fall for her. I cannot fall for her. I’m not good enough for her. I can't give her the kind of relationship she deserves. I don’t trust myself not to hurt her. I'll always want more from her, and it’d be wrong of me to expect her to put up with my proclivities, no matter how much she seems to enjoy it now. I cannot sully her. And despite my best efforts to keep our relationship professional, it's clearly not working.

I need to find a way to, once and for all, put an end to this obsession I’ve been developing for her. I need to get her out of my system. The straightforward way would be to fuck it out, which would hurt our working relationship. In the brief time since she joined my team, she’s become indispensable.

Butnobody’sindispensable. I can fuck her, then send her on her way. Yes, that’s right. That’s the only way out. I’ll pay her enough to compensate for the job loss. Then I can move on.

I scoop up more of the chocolate tart, and again, she wraps her lips about the spoon. When she licks it off, the sight of that pink tongue has my cock stabbing at the constraints of my pants at my crotch.

And when I dip the same spoon into the dessert and bring it back to my mouth, her pupils dilate. She swallows, and the pulse at the base of her neck kicks up in speed.

"Like it?" My voice comes out rougher than I intended.

She nods.

"Want more?"

She nods again.

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