Page 25 of Fearless

Itake a step back but hold her in place, purely so I can see her reactions play across her features. She sticks her chin out and stares up at me, those big silver eyes going wide.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find this amusing.

Sure, I wouldn’t havechosenit to be this way. But this is the way it is now.

And her attempt at escape was adorable.

What did she think she was going to do, whip me into submission?

If I have to teach her the hard way that I don’t swing like that, then I will.

“We lay down firm rules, and we establish strict consequences.”

She screws her face up, clearly unamused.

“Now, first and foremost, I don’t want to fuck you right now—clearly, you have issues with fucking, and I happen to like my eyeballs—but if we stay here like this, then I might not be able to keep myself on a leash. So I’m going to let you go, and you’re not going to run, understand?”

She nods her head, and I drop my hands and take a step away from her.

Good.

I don’t know what the fuck it is. There’s something about this girl that has me right on the edge.

Last night I thought it was the tears, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe it’s just her big, needy eyes in general. In the club, I saw her straight away for what she was. A lost little girl who hadn’t even worked out what exactly she was looking for. But she needs something. And I like to be needed. For as much as I bitch and moan about Cole, the truth of the matter is I could have popped a bullet in his skull years ago. More times than I can count that action would have been justified.

But I’ve never done it, because he needs me, and like I said, I enjoy being needed.

Why did it take me thirty-two years on this earth to work that out?

Maybe that’s what’s attracting me to the lost little puppy in front of me.

Even now, after three of her outbursts, she looks like she could fall straight over if I nudged her.

And I like that.

I could whip my trousers down right now, and show her exactly how much I like that. Maybe then she’d realize just how precarious her position is, and think twice before she tries to rattle me with a fucking whip. Or whatever else she pulls out of Cole’s cupboard of horrors.

We’ll get to that though. One rule at a time.

I clear my throat. “Rule number one. No running.”

She snorts, which is fine. Let her fucking snort. It’s when she dares roll her eyes at me that I’ll go right back and amend my agreement about keeping my cock away from her.

“No running. No escaping. No slipping away. No sneaking out.”

She goes to open her mouth but I cut her off before she can get a word out. “Absolutely no fucking running.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that one of the seven ways you spelled it out. Can you repeat that, pretty please?”

“No fucking backchat.”

She cocks her head. “Is that another rule, or…?”

Jesus, is she asking for a fucking hiding? “No. But we can make it a rule, so be warned.”

I continue before she can interrupt me again. “Rule number two. No fighting. No hitting me with whips. No scratching my eyeballs out. And don’t try to pull my hair either, because I hate that.”

She laughs, briefly, but quickly stops as if she’s just remembered she’s supposed to be mad at me. “Anything else, Your Highness? Or do you prefer Master?”

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