Page 113 of Hell Hath No Fury

“I have a hard time believing that,” he replies dryly.

I roll my eyes a bit because that’s a fair assessment of basically anything I could probably be asking him. So, I squint at him and reply, “This is Meghan-approved.”

“I wish that made me feel better.”

Now, I laugh, knowing that some of the conversations I’ve had with my psychiatrist can be a bit questionable. But in her defense, the majority of the questionable dialogue comes from me, and she spends quite a bit of time setting me straight.

Once again, he glances at the bottle I left on his desk. He looks at me with a questioning expression, so I retrieve it, holding it between us. “I believe this will help me.”

“I’m going to take a guess that that is not a prescription.”

I grimace slightly, giving the little bottle a shake. “Not exactly.”

“Where did you get it?” I pause briefly, contemplating my response, even though the truth is the only acceptable answer. “You’re not seriously going to try to fucking lie to me?” he asks slowly. I give him a look and say nothing, so he continues, “Baby girl, the lack of a label on that bottle is a sure indication that it’s not a prescription.”

I’m sure my smile is rather sheepish, though I hope also a bit apologetic. “I know. Agatha got it for me, but we did extensive research, and she got it from a legitimate source in Amsterdam. I promise, we’ve even had professional oversight.”

His eyes search mine briefly, and then, after a moment, he turns his chair more fully, urging me onto his lap. I settle myself sideways. His arms come around me loosely, and then he says, “Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“I kind of got that impression from your approach but tell me anyway.”

“I want to use the pills to see if an in-depth somno scene will help me push beyond this excruciating barrier I can’t seem to break through.”

His whole body tenses, and his hands move as if he’s going to push me off his lap, so I turn toward him, resting an arm over his shoulders, my other hand moving to his cheek, turning his face toward mine. Our eyes lock, and the pain I see reflected in thosegolden eyes I love so much has my breath catching in my throat. Suddenly, I have this deep yearning to fix it. To take one last leap off a cliff, knowing he’ll be there to catch me.

“Please, Darius. You’ll be in full control of the scene. You have the power to call it at any moment.”

He glances away, his throat working as he swallows, and then he looks back at me. “What about your safe word?”

I shake my head. “I don’t fucking want it.”

“What does that mean?”

I sigh, looking away briefly before once again locking eyes with his as I explain, “I want the responsibility stripped from me entirely. I want to be laid open, completely vulnerable to you, and at your mercy.”

He shifts in his chair for a moment, and I think he’s going to knock me off his lap. I brace myself, willing to wrap myself around him and refuse to go, but all he does is pull me closer, turning me so I’m facing him fully, straddling him. “Then tell me exactly what you need.”

Happy that it’s not a no, I wiggle a little closer, my hands resting on his chest, relief running through me as his hands settle on my hips. “I’ve worked out the timeline. If I take it during the day, I won’t end up in my natural sleep cycle.”

“And that means what?”

“It means if you begin at a certain time after I take it, then toward the end, I should start to wake.”

“And that’s what you want?”

“Yes,” I reply softly. “I want to know on some level that you’re there. I want to feel you claiming me again.”

His fingers dig into my hips, desire flaring in his eyes. “And that’s what you want? Me to claim you?”

Nodding, a harsh, humorless laugh falls from my lips. He frowns slightly and opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something else, but I stop him by pressing my hand againsthis chest. “Yes, that’s what I want. Which means you have to promise me that no matter what happens—no matter what I say or do—you’ll keep going.”

He studies me, the tension in his body returning, and then he says, “I don’t know if I can do that.”

Panic shoots through me, and my hands move up until I’m gripping his head. Leaning in, I reply fervently, “You must. I know this is a huge ask, Darius. I know that this goes against your overwhelming instinct to protect me. But in this case, doing what I’m asking will be protecting me. Saving me.”

Again, he searches my eyes. Then, he’s urging me closer, and he wraps his arms around my back until I’m tucked against his chest protectively. His lips press against my forehead, and then he sighs, the warmth of his breath rustling my hair. And after a few long moments, he whispers, “I’ll do it on one condition.”

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