Page 20 of Obey

Now I want a peek in her eReader. What is it, exactly, she’s reading?

“I figured I should at least be mentally prepared for some of the things Harry might want to try.” She swings her legs. The fact they don’t touch the floor on those chairs makes me swallow a laugh. “I didn’t want to be blindsided by him, or freak out when he suggested something and ruin, uh, the bedroom experience.”

She hasn’t done a goddamn thing on the list, and she’s already perfectly submissive. What the fuck was Harry thinking to fuck it up so badly with her?

He doesn’t deserve her. Not that it makes a difference to him. He thinks he deserves everything he wants.

“You’re too kind.” My admission makes her head snap up from twiddling her thumbs, or assessing her nails, or looking wherever it was she was looking, and the emotion in her eyes makes me damn near pour hot milk over my hand. “He really is a dick, you know. He doesn’t deserve you.”

She nods, but she doesn’t seem convinced.

“The things on your list, are they things you read about and figured you might like? Or?”

She nods again, more enthusiastically. “The people in the books like it, so I thought it’s probably not a bad place to start, right?”

Can’t fault her logic.

“There’s a reason these things come up time and again in romance novels.”

The reminder she reads romance and probably has an unachievable view of what a relationship should be hits me in the face like a smack. A quick reminder I’m not trying to date this woman, just ensure she either never goes back to Harry, or, if she does go back, she’s already past where he wants her to be sexually.

There’s a reason he sexually controlled her for as long as he did. I don’t know what he’s been waiting for, but clearly he’s had his reasons.

“Romance novels don’t always emulate real life experiences you know.”

She snorts. “Are you telling me oral isn’t good?” When she folds her arms I come close to throwing her over my shoulderand taking her to one of the beds in this place and showing her how good it can be.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

She hums, like “I told you so.”

“Chocolate sprinkles?” I hold up the tub, and she gives me a thumbs up. This woman.

When I place two of the mugs down in front of her, she grins.

“I didn’t have a giant mug, so you got two medium mugs.”

“Thank you.” She skims her finger across the top of the whipped cream before popping it into her mouth with a small moan that makes my dick twitch, then she takes a long drink.

I put my mug on the table facing her, but she’s shivering so hard I need to do something. “I’ll be right back.”

She bolts to her feet. “Where are you going?” Her voice is tight, brittle, and her face is pale.

I can’t help myself when I reach out to brush my fingers across the apple of her cheek. “To find some blankets. You’re freezing.”

She giggles.

“What?”

“You’re this giant, grumpy dude who has handkerchiefs and who makes hot chocolate, and who goes to find blankets for blue haired pixies.” She presses my chest with her index finger, and I fight not to suck in a deep breath. I want more contact. Touching her face with my fingers was a mistake. Her touching my chest in return, another mistake.

Something flares in my chest. “I’m not a nice guy, Talia, and this isn’t a romance novel. We’re two people trapped in weird circumstances by a snow storm. I don’t do making love. I don’t do soft and gentle. I fuck.”

Heat fills her eyes, and warm satisfaction seeps into my skin.

“It’s in my nature as a dominant to be caring, but don’t mistake my responsibility as some soft and mushy bullshit. Youwon’t find that here.” I’m towering over her. Her head’s tipped back, mine’s bent forward, and there’s a large gap between our faces.

Her chest is rising and falling with heavy breaths that match my own. If she was taller, our chests might even brush against each other. She’s not staring at the floor. Her shoulders are squared, her eyes flaring with heat and focused on my lips.

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