Page 45 of Yours

“Good girl,” Ronan murmured, his voice edged with something dark and thrilling.

My chest tightened at the words. My fingers curled against the table as I waited, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts I couldn’t untangle.

This was happening.

This was really happening.

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the faint sound of my breathing and the soft rustle of fabric as Ronan stepped closer. Every nerve in my body was on high alert, the tension building to a point I thought I might snap.

“You have no idea how tempting it is to let you keep talking, love,” Ronan said, his voice darkly amused. “But even your sharp tongue has its limits.”

I clenched my fists as I forced myself to stand my ground. “You think you can just order me around, Ronan? Treat me like one of your—your lackeys?”

“Lackeys?” he repeated, amusement audible in his tone. “Is that what you think this is?”

I turned my head slightly, just enough to glance over my shoulder. His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable, and the faint curve of his lips sent a fresh wave of heat flooding my cheeks.

“This is me,” he said, stepping closer until I could feel the warmth of his body behind me, “teaching you a lesson you clearly need to learn.”

“I hate you,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

“But you’re still here,” he said smoothly, his hand brushing lightly against my lower back. The touch was firm, but not rough, steadying me against the table in a way that made my breath hitch.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I said, though the words felt hollow even as they left my lips.

“Doing what?” he asked softly. “Calling you out? Holding you accountable? Or making you admit what we both already know? That you want this. Every bit of this.”

I froze, my mind racing as his words sank in.

“You’ve been fighting me from the start, Kiera,” he continued steadily. “Pushing, testing, waiting to see how far you can go. But here’s the thing, love—you don’t set the limits. I do.”

I sucked in a breath, my body stiffening as his hand caressed my lower back, his touch firm and steady.

“You’re quiet now,” he said. I could hear the faint smirk in his tone. “What happened to all that sass?”

“It’s still here,” I shot back, though my voice came out shakier than I intended.

“Good,” he said simply, his hand pressing lightly against the curve of my hip. “I’d hate for you to lose it. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

I froze at that, my chest tightening. His words weren’t teasing—not entirely. There was something honest in them, something raw that sent my heart racing in ways I didn’t want to think about.

“And yet,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, “it still needs to be… tempered.”

Before I could respond, his palm came down on my right cheek with a loud crack, the sting blooming across my skin and pulling a gasp from my lips.

“Ronan,” I hissed, my voice catching on the edge of the word.

“Count, Kiera,” he said calmly, his hand resting lightly on my hip.

My cheeks burned, and I clenched my fists tighter against the table. “One,” I said through gritted teeth.

His hand came down again, the sting more brutal this time, and I squeezed my eyes shut as the heat spread through me.

“Two,” I said, my voice trembling.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone softer now, almost gentle.

The words sent a shiver down my spine, the ache in my chest warring with the heat pooling low in my stomach. His hand brushed against my back, his touch steadying, soothing, before the next swat landed.

---