Page 30 of Unleashed

"So you want to undress yourself," he says quietly. His jaw firms as his gaze meets mine. I want to take a step back; I want to turn away, but I make myself meet his stare.

I try to hold my ground. "I need time to feel comfortable getting naked in front of you."

His eyes flash. "I’m your husband." The words hang in the air between us as if he's staking his claim.

"Exactly. I'm not one of your siblings that you’re in charge of. I'm yourwife."

His brows rise in mild surprise. Surprise at my words or my pushing back at his commands? Maybe both.

Strong, large, verycapablehands anchor on his hips as he continues. "I respect that you don't have a recollection of our world, but let me remind you," he says in a low, measured tone, "I do not tolerate disobedience. Yes, from the people under my command, including my siblings. But most especially my wife. It's my job to protect you, and if you defy me, you make that job difficult or damn near impossible. I don't take kindly to defiance, Anissa."

So maybe I don't want to find out what he'll do.

"I don't think it's very good for you to control my life," I say defensively, but I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a tide that’s sweeping sand from beneath my feet with every tug of the undertow.

He leans forward, his presence suffocating, and brushes a strand of hair from my face, almost—almost—tenderly. "This is me being patient, little Anissa.” He shakes his head. “My little swan. I'm not threatening you. I'm giving you grace."

He leans forward, his breath warm against my skin. "Going forward, there will be no second chances. If you’d remembered your place, you’d already be over my knee.”

My pulse races.

"You’ll allow me to undress you, and that isn’t a question. You’re exhausted. Now comehere."

My heart beats madly in my chest. I can’t blame the medication, not this time. Being in the presence of a man like him is terrifying. Exhilarating. It’s the top of a roller coaster before plummeting to near death. It’s staring at a deathly predator eyeball to eyeball. It’s the flicker of flame that could warm or cause utter destruction.

Of course I want someone to take care of me—I’m only human—but I want it to be someone I actually trust. This man is still a stranger.

"When you disagree with me, maybe you should pick your battles," he says, his voice low and firm. He told me he wouldn’t warn me again, and even though he’s a stranger, I’ve started to compile a small list of things I know about him.

Top of that list? He is a man of his word.

"I’m going to run you a bath. You have a waterproof cast. You can take a bath with the cast on, and I’ll even allow you to wash yourself."

I swallow hard. "Very generous of you."

“I take very good care of what’s mine.”

Definitely true. I look at the ancient, polished wood. The immaculate state of his bedroom. His clothes folded in the drawers, and the laundry basket flush against the wall. I note his siblings, who have been under his care since he was barely past childhood himself. He does take very good care of what belongs to him, and that includes me. I may not like it, I may fight it, but there’s no denying what’s happening here.

Without a word, he leans toward me. His fingers brush bare skin. My nipples pebble as more questions bloom.

He says we’ve been together before. Was he telling the truth?

In the fog of not having any memory, this feels like the first time he's ever touched me.

I close my eyes against the rush of feelings. My heart pounds in my chest as I feel his hands on my skin. He takes his time, liftingthe tee off, his palms on my bare skin leaving heat in their wake. He gathers my silky hair, pale as corn silk, against his rough, dark skin. And when my top is completely off, he grazes my bare shoulder with the hint of a kiss. I shiver, and pressure builds between my legs. Every biological need in my body screams for more.

Just surrender.

Just accommodate his dominance and command and let him bathe me as I know he wants to.

It's tricky, taking off the shorts with the cast, but he does so slowly, deliberately, and when the palm of his hand brushes the curve of my ass, heat and pressure build between my legs. I want him to touch me. Iwanthim to take control.

When I sit in front of him wearing nothing but a sports bra and clean black cotton panties, he whistles.

"Christ,you’re gorgeous."

Wait. Hasn’t he seen me naked before?

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