Page 20 of Can You Take It?

He’s quiet for a moment, and I can almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “I saw the news, Izzie,” he finally says. “About Cassie… I’m so sorry. She didn’t deserve this. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“Yeah. She didn’t. But you know how things go in our world, right? No one ever really gets what they deserve.”

There’s a pause, and I can tell he’s wrestling with himself, struggling to figure out what to do. “Izel, if you’re in trouble, you need to tell me. I can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

“I know you want to help,” I say, “but you can’t. Not this time. Just... just trust me, okay? I’ll figure something out.”

“Dammit,” he sighs. “You’ve always been stubborn as hell.”

“Comes with the territory,” I say, forcing a small smile he can’t see. “I’ll be okay. Just keep your head down and stay out of sight.”

“Fine,” he finally concedes, though I can hear the reluctance in his voice. “But promise me you’ll call if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“I promise,” I say, even though we both know it’s a promise I might not be able to keep.

We exchange a few more words before hanging up.

As I walk back into the living room, I’m not expecting to see a fuming Richard standing at the doorway. He’s pissed, and it’s written all over his face.

“Lucas, call it a night,” Richard orders in a tone that doesn’t brook any argument.

Lucas, looking slightly perturbed, nods and makes his exit. He clicks the front door shut behind him.

I meet Richard’s furious gaze and realize I’m in for some serious trouble, and I have a feeling things are about to get a whole lot more complicated. He doesn’t waste any time, stepping right into my personal space.

“Why did you lie?”

I’m in no mood to answer so I start walking away, hoping to escape this confrontation, but before I can make it to the safety of my room, Richard grabs my arm. He pulls me close, and I can feel his anger radiating from every pore.

I try to wriggle free, but he’s got a grip on me like a bear trap. “Let go of me, Richard,” I snap, but he’s not budging.

“Not until you tell me the truth. Why did you say it was consensual?”

“Maybe I like it when I’m forced,” I retort with a teasing smile. It’s not true, but I want to get under his skin, to see if I can push him over the edge.

Richard lets go of my arm, and for a moment, I think I’m in the clear. I take a step back, ready to walk away.

But in a heartbeat, he pushes me against the wall, and it’s not just fear I’m feeling.

His touch is forceful, yet nothing like Liam’s. Richard’s hands are feather-soft despite his grip on my neck. His fingers roam over my breasts, causing a tremor through me when he playfully pinches my nipple through my camisole. I close my eyes and lick my lips.

“Feel this,” Richard murmurs, his lips brushing against my earlobe. “There’s a fine line between desire and fear. We train our agents with recordings to understand that line. It’s dark, but it’s necessary.”

His hand slides down, cupping my breast firmly, his thumb flicking over my nipple. “Assault is about power, about taking without permission. But kink...” His voice trails off as his other hand that was on my neck, travels lower, pressing against my pussy through my shorts. “Kink is about giving in, about exploring boundaries together. Do you feel the difference?”

My head’s spinning with all of it. Is it really consent if I’m drawn to this? Is this my own desire or just my way of coping?

“Answer me,” he growls softly, his fingers pressing harder. But I stay silent, caught in the haze of what I want and what I fear.

“I can make you talk. The real question is, how much will you enjoy it?” he murmurs, his mouth grazing my earlobe again before he gives it a teasing bite. A soft moan escapes my lips before I can stop it.

His fingers press more insistently against my pussy, the fabric of my panties doing little to dull the sensation. I gasp as my hips instinctively arch towards his hand.

Seriously, what the hell’s going on with me?

Richard bends down even further, and just as I feel his lips approaching mine, the front door opens. A Victoria’s Secret model, looking like she just stepped out of a sultry ad, saunters in. The sight of her is like a bucket of ice water dumped on me.

What the actual fuck just happened?

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