Page 14 of Yours

The sound echoed in the quiet street, loud and humiliating. My coat barely softened the sting, and my eyes widened as a rush of shock and heat flooded my cheeks.

I froze, my mouth hanging open as the sting spread across my skin. He hadn’t hit me hard—just enough to make a point—but the sheer audacity of it left me reeling.

“Ronan—” I hissed, finally finding my voice, but he didn’t let me finish.

“That,” he said, his grip still gentle on my arm, “was just a taste, bad girl. You have a whole lot more coming in just a few minutes.”

I stared at him, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might burst. He didn’t look angry—not really. His expression was calm, steady, like he’d just stated a fact. Like this was inevitable.

“Are you serious?” I whispered, still stunned.

He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes never leaving mine. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning as I broke his gaze and glanced toward the car. My legs felt like lead as I took a step forward, then another, my arm still tingling where his hand had held me while my bottom still stung where he had spanked me.

The door handle was cold against my palm as I yanked it open and slid inside. My heart was still racing, my thoughts spinning out of control as I buckled my seatbelt and stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him.

He’dspankedme. How fucking dare he? What did that mean? Had I underestimated him all this time? Was this going to be far worse than I had anticipated?

A million questions swirled in my head, but I didn’t ask a single one of them.

He walked around the car with the same unhurried ease he always had, slipping into the driver’s seat and closing the door behind him. The engine rumbled to life, the low purr filling the silence between us.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, thumbing through his contacts. A quick swipe, a tap, and then the phone was ringing as he pressed it to his ear.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice calm, but clipped with purpose. “Leena’s apartment. Power’s out. I want someone on it within the hour.” He paused, his fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel. “And keep someone on the place. I don’t want my sister there without protection.”

He ended the call with a flick of his wrist, sliding the phone into the cup holder.

I could feel him glance at me out of the corner of his eye, but I didn’t dare look back. My mind was stuck on what had just happened—on the deafening crack of his palm against my backside, the sting that still lingered, and the promise he’d made just seconds ago.

You’ve got a whole lot more coming.

I didn’t know what to do with that. My body felt like it was on fire, every nerve on edge, my thoughts a chaotic swirl of indignation, humiliation, and unwanted desire.

He hadn’t even yelled. He didn’t need to. Ronan didn’t need volume to get his point across. He didn’t need anything but that calm, quiet authority that made people fall in line whether they wanted to or not.

And the worst part?

He was right.

Ihadwasted his time. Ihaddragged him into this mess. And now, whether I liked it or not, I’d put myself in his hands. I deserved whatever I had coming.

I pressed my knees together, clenching my hands in my lap as the car rolled smoothly down the street. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I, at least for a moment.

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Are you… are you really going tospa—spankme?”

My voice cracked halfway through, and I hated the way it sounded—small, shaky, so unlike me. But I couldn’t help it. The question had been clawing at my throat since I got in the car, and now it was out there, hanging between us like a live wire.

Ronan didn’t respond immediately. He just glanced at me, his expression unreadable, and the quiet stretch of time between my question and his answer made my stomach twist even tighter.

“Yes,” he said finally, his voice calm and deliberate. “I am.”

I felt my cheeks flame, my heart skipping like a faulty engine. My fists tightened in my lap as I tried to keep my breathing steady, but it wasn’t working.

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, though it came out more like a whisper than I intended. “I’m not a child.”

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