Page 14 of Bound to Him

I stop before her, close enough to catch the scent of the jasmine soap I provided for her, to see the rapid pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. "Do you know what tonight is, Hannah?"

She shakes her head, a quick jerky movement. "No, Dante.”

"Tonight marks three weeks since you came to live with me." I reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She doesn't flinch anymore, though I feel the tension in her. "Three weeks of adjustment, of learning the rules. You've done well, for the most part."

"Thank you," she says automatically, her eyes fixed somewhere over my shoulder, avoiding direct contact.

"Look at me," I instruct.

Reluctantly, she raises her gaze to mine. Her eyes are hazel, flecked with gold in this light, wide with apprehension. I could drown in those eyes, in the emotions that flow through them like currents in deep water.

"Tonight, we begin a new phase of our relationship," I tell her, my hand moving from her hair tothe curve of her cheek. "Tonight, I make you mine in every sense of the word."

Understanding dawns in her expression, followed immediately by fear. She takes a step back, her thighs hitting the edge of the window seat. "Please," she whispers. "I'm not ready for that."

"It's not a matter of being ready," I explain gently, following her retreat, eliminating the space she tried to create between us. "It's a matter of necessity. You belong to me, Hannah. In every way. This is simply the natural progression of our arrangement."

"Arrangement?" Her voice rises, a hint of her old defiance returning. "I didn't arrange anything! You took me! You bought me like—like an object!"

My hand closes around her wrist, not painfully, but with enough pressure to remind her of the difference in our strength. "Be careful, Hannah. I've been patient with you, gentle even. Don't mistake that patience for weakness."

She tries to pull away, but I hold firm. "Please don't do this," she begs, her voice breaking. "Please, I'll do anything else you ask. Just not this."

"You'll do everything I ask," I correct her. "Including this. Especially this." I pull her closer,until our bodies are almost touching. "It can be pleasant for you, or it can be merely tolerable. That choice is yours. But it will happen, Hannah. Tonight."

Tears well in her eyes, spilling over to track down her cheeks. "Why?" she asks, the simple question heavy with despair. "Why me? Why this?"

I release her wrist to cup her face in both hands, holding her gaze to mine. "Because you're mine," I say, as if explaining something obvious to a child. "Because I chose you. Because from the moment I saw you, I knew you would belong to me in every possible way."

I bend, pressing my lips to hers—our first real kiss. She remains rigid, unresponsive, but I don't mind. This isn't about her pleasure yet. That will come later, when she learns to associate my touch with reward rather than fear.

I lift her easily, one arm behind her back, the other beneath her knees, and carry her to the bed. She's light in my arms, fragile—feeling despite the strength I know she possesses. I lay her on the black silk, her pale skin and ivory dress creating a stark contrast that pleases my aesthetic sense.

"Please," she tries one more time, the word barely audible.

"Shh," I soothe, sitting beside her on the bed. "Fighting will only make this harder for you.Accept what's happening, Hannah. Accept your place in my life."

I reach for the thin straps of her dress, sliding them down her shoulders. She trembles beneath my touch but doesn't resist physically. She's learned that much, at least—the futility of fighting me. I pull the dress down, exposing her breasts, small and perfect, her nipples hardened from fear rather than arousal.

"Beautiful," I murmur, tracing a finger along her collarbone, down to circle one nipple. "Even more perfect than I imagined."

She closes her eyes, tears still leaking from beneath her lashes. I continue undressing her, pulling the dress down and off entirely, leaving her in only the white lace panties I selected for her. Those too are removed with methodical care, until she lies naked before me, exposed and vulnerable.

I take my time looking at her, memorizing every curve, every freckle, every detail of her body. She is a masterpiece, and now she is mine to appreciate, to touch, to claim.

"Open your eyes," I command. "I want you to see me. To remember who's doing this to you."

Her eyes flutter open, glazed with tears and fear. I stand, removing my jacket, unbuttoning my shirt with unhurried movements. Her gaze followsmy hands, her breathing becoming more rapid as each piece of clothing is discarded.

When I'm fully undressed, I return to the bed, positioning myself above her. She's shaking now, her entire body trembling with fear and anticipation. I lower myself to kiss her neck, her collarbone, down to her breasts. My hands explore her body, learning its secrets, its responses. Despite her fear, her body begins to react—a flush spreading across her chest, her nipples hardening further under my attention.

"Your body knows who it belongs to," I tell her, my voice rough with desire. "Even if your mind still resists."

"Please don't hurt me," she whispers, the closest she's come to acceptance.

"I won't hurt you, Hannah," I promise, and in this, at least, I'm sincere. "Pain isn't what I want from you."

I continue my exploration, hands traveling lower, finding the warmth between her thighs. Fuck, she’s wet, but though her body may be responding, her mind is still locked in fear. I reach for the bedside drawer, retrieving a small bottle of lubricant.

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