Page 38 of Defiled Innocence

“And we did get married, so I kept my part of the deal,” she continues as I strip the tie from around my neck and reach for the buttons at my throat.

Her eyes flicker to my hands as I methodically unbutton my shirt, pulling it from my trousers when I get to the bottom. As soon as I shuck out of the shirt, her gaze freezes on my chest.

An old scar runs across my chest from my midsection up to my right shoulder. The physician my father used at the time did what he could to sew up the gash. It had been a nasty wound, and saving my life had been prioritized over making the scar pretty.

“What happened to you?” She runs a feather-like touch along the raised, jagged scar.

“It happened a long time ago,” I assure her when her worried glance hits me. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” I gently wrap my hand around her wrist.

“Who did it?” Fire burns in her question.

Does she plan to avenge me? A smile tugs at my lips with the mental image of her going into battle on my behalf.

She’d go into a fight for anyone she felt needed defending.

I cup her chin, bringing her gaze away from the scar. “I’ll tell you all about it after.”

“After?” She blinks, like she’s forgotten what’s lurking just ahead.

I smile. “Your punishment.”

She drops her fingers from my chest as though my skin has scalded her and retreats a step. “Dmitri. You can’t.”

Grabbing the straight-back chair from the vanity in the corner of the room I had brought in for her, I bring it to the foot of the bed.

“I assure you, I can.” I grasp the buckle of my belt, enjoying the tremble making its way through her expression when she realizes I’m removing it.

“You’re insane if you think for one second, I’m going to just let you?—”

“Going back on your vows already?” I question as I tug the leather strap free from the loops of my pants.

Her jaw drops at the sound, and I wonder if she’s ever truly been punished before.

The little spanking I gave her in my office was probably the first time she was ever held accountable. Lucas meant well, I’m sure, especially after the mess of their father, but he gave in too much to her.

The chair creaks when I sink onto it.

I fold the belt in half, and then half it again and fist it in my right hand. Resting my hands on my knees, I stare up at her.

“Come here, pull your pants and panties off, and lie over my knee,” I order as gently as I can, given my patience is wearing thin.

Silently, she shakes her head.

“Amelia, don’t make me come get you. Now. Come here.” I switch the belt to my left hand so I can offer my right to her.

Harming her isn’t my intention, but this is going to hurt.

Her eyes soften as the realization that there’s no way out of this except for through it hits her. She’s smart, pragmatic. If she runs, I’ll catch her, and it will be worse. If she refuses, I’ll come get her and it will be worse.

“Dmitri.” My name is used as a plea, but her hands have already moved to the button on her slacks.

Her face reddens as she pushes them over her hips, and they fall to her feet.

In silence, I admire the gentle beauty of her movements. She steps out of the clothing and her thumbs hook into the elastic of her soft lavender briefs.

A soft blush covers her face entirely by the time she stands beside me, her hands folded in front of her as though she could hide the sweetest part of her.

“Hands at your sides,” I say, brushing her arms away, revealing the small patch of curls.

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