Page 34 of Unrequited
She exhales heavily, and her voice softens. “I know. I don’t even know how it happened. We were just hanging out… I was drinking a fuckingsoda…”
“Language,” I growl. “I don’t like those words on those pretty lips.”
She nods, a playful smirk forming. “All right, okay. Honestly, though—I didn’t mean it all to happen. And thank you again. You’re right. My brothers would absolutely kill me. But I’m thankful. Really.”
“You think you’re untouchable now?” I ask, my eyebrow raised.
“No,” she says. “I know I’m not.”
Her pout kills me. I want to wrap my arms around her, press my mouth to her temples, and kiss the bridge of her nose, all the way down to the curve of her lips. I want to hold her until she stops being reckless—and then flip her over my knee and punish her for being so damn careless.
“Where I’m from,” I tell her sharply, “women know their place. They’re submissive to their men. They know not to put themselves in danger.”
“Is that right?” She pauses. “I think my brothers like to believe the same thing.”
My fearless, reckless little lass.
She gives me a teasing smile, and I shake my head. Despite myself, I smile back.
Fuck.
“And if you were mine,” I growl, “I mean it, you wouldn’t sit for a week after pulling that stunt. Do you understand me? I’m not joking.”
I picture it—pulling back my chair, draping her over my lap, spanking that perfect little arse of hers until her voice breaks from begging.Please, Seamus, stop, Seamus!
Her breath hitches. Her cheeks flush that irresistible shade of pink. She squirms in her seat and swallows hard.
“You said that. Lucky for me, I’m not yours,” she whispers—but there's a crack in her voice. A sliver of sadness she can’t quite hide.
“Not yet,” I murmur. “Notyet.”
She leans closer, and her tone is soft now. Vulnerable.
“Would you really punish me, Seamus?”
My body tenses. Fuck, I live for this game with my little Zoya.
“Would you?” she asks again, like she’s innocent. But she isn’t, not even close.
“I would.” I lean closer, my fingers brushing the back of her neck. I squeeze, just enough to make her shiver.
“Tell me again what you’d do.” She sighs, her eyelids fluttering shut.
My fucking god, she’s into this.
“I told you, I’d put you over my knee,” I whisper. “Where I’m from, the women are protected because they trust their men. And when they don’t…” I lower my voice. “They pay the consequences.”
“Is that right?” she asks, her breath shaky. She’s trembling, and Iknowhow badly she wants this. How badly she needs it.
“That’s right.”
“Tell me,” she says, reaching for my drink. She takes a slow sip, staring at me over the rim. “At least you don’t lie,” she murmurs with a smile. “Most men do.”
“What do you want to know?” I ask her.
“Tell me exactly what a punishment at your hands would look like.”
She swallows hard, and I see the past in her eyes. Her brothers. The way she’s had to harden herself, just to survive.
