Page 62 of Can You Take It?

She arches a brow, looking down at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “For rejecting me in Swedish? Yeah, no, I think I’m good.”

I smirk, deliberately brushing my fingers on her skin.If only she knew. “No,” I say, shaking my head as I finish securing the cuffs. “But for the fact that you’re under my protection, and I shouldn’t have gotten drunk last night like it was some frat party.”

She snorts, pulling her wrists slightly against the cuffs, testing them. “Does that mean if I report you, it’ll getyouin cuffs?”

I click my tongue, meeting her gaze. “Did you do that on purpose? Get me drunk just to have me cuffed?”

“No,” she says, shrugging, “but it doesn’t hurt to be opportunistic.”

“Sad news for you,” I say, leaning in, my face inches from hers. “I’ll just walk away with a suspension.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Well, that’s no fun.”

“But hey,” I add, “I’ll let you cuff me, just so I can show you what real submission looks like.”

She blinks, processing that, but I catch the hint of doubt in her eyes before she responds. “After you rejected me last night? In Swedish? I kinda doubt you’d let me.”

I chuckle softly, my thumb brushing over her wrist. I feel her pulse, the warmth of her skin, and it’s addictive. “And how would you even know I was speaking Swedish?”

She leans back into the couch and her head tilts slightly. “Because you told me you learned Swedish, remember?”

I move in closer, my lips brushing the side of her neck as I slowly pull the cuffs from her wrists. Her breath hitches, and I can hear her heartbeat pick up. I lean in, my lips hovering near her ear, and whisper, “Pensi che ti abbia respinto? Non, cariño. Se sapessi cosa sto trattenendo, correresti. E voglio che tu lo faccia. Dio, voglio spezzarti e spezzarmi per te. Ogni secondo che sono vicino a te, sto combattendo ogni regola che ho già infranto nella mia testa.”

Her entire body tenses for a second, just enough for me to notice. I pull back slightly to look into her eyes, studying the way her chest rises and falls with each shaky breath. “Did that feel like rejection?”

She swallows hard, stammering for a second, clearly thrown off. “N-No...”

I lean in and press a kiss to her cheek, letting my lips linger just a second too long. “Good,” I murmur, pulling away. “Have a good day.”

Izel sits there for a second, then looks down at the cuffs still in her hand. She lifts them. “So... you gonna put these back on or what?”

I grin, walking toward the door, feeling her eyes on me the entire time. I stop at the door, unlocking it and turning back to her with a smug smile. “I hope to see you waiting for me when Iget back,” I say, locking eyes with her. “And I expect those cuffs to be ready.” I can already tell by the look on her face—she’s going to do it.

I start to walk out, but just as my hand hits the door handle, I pause and glance back over my shoulder. “Oh, and for the record, I speak 47 different languages.” I say it casually, knowing it’ll get under her skin.

Without missing a beat, she grabs a cushion off the couch and chucks it at me. “For the record, I don’t give a fuck.”

I laugh, catching the cushion before it smacks me in the face, tossing it back onto the couch. “Yeah, you do.” I wink and step out, closing the door behind me with a grin plastered on my face.

Chapter 18

IZEL

I sit idle, gazing out at the forgotten garden, lost in my thoughts. My mind keeps replaying the sensation of Richard’s fingers on my body, a memory that’s become an unexpected source of happiness. For the first time in a long while, I’m in a happy mood, and I savor the rare feeling of contentment.

Just as I’m about to immerse myself in those pleasurable memories, the front door swings open, and Luna walks in. Richard had mentioned that she had to go out for work, which is why I’d spent the day at the FBI office instead of his home.

Luna settles on the couch, and something is different. She is no longer cheerful but rather serious.

“We need to talk.”

I’m not in the mood for a serious conversation, and I brush it off with a casual, “No,” as I get up from the couch, heading towards my room. I have no intention of spoiling my newfound happiness.

But Luna isn’t one to be brushed aside. She continues, “Remember when I mentioned that my dad was a cop?”

I shake my head, feigning disinterest in her family history. But then she drops a bombshell that freezes me in my tracks.

“He was a cop in Hollowbrook.”

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