Page 12 of Married to My Master

“Mmhmm,” she said, nodding as he began to gently scrub her back.

He scrubbed her back and shoulders for a few moments. “I've been thinking,” Dane finally said, trying to sound as charming as he could as he rinsed the suds off her back, “I think we got off on the wrong foot here.”

There was silence, nothing but the sound of sloshing water as Emily shifted in the bathtub and Dane continued to bathe her. Finally, though, Emily snorted. “Wrong foot?” she asked, the disdain clear in her voice. “That what you call it? You know you won't get away with this, right?”

This wasn't working. Maybe he wasn't being convincing enough, with his kindness. He frowned at her admonishment and gritted his teeth. Still, he was determined to stick to the plan. She wasn't going to get to him. Not yet. “Here,” he said. as he gently pulled back on her shoulder. “Lean back. I won't do anything. I promise.”

She scooted back to the edge of the bathtub, but kept her legs drawn up. A murderous scowl was on her face, and it didn't look like it was going to soften anytime soon.

Why wasn't this working? He fought to keep the edge out of his voice. “It's okay,” he soothed. “I've seen it all already, haven't I?”

Emily frowned a little, but still stretched out her legs.

“There,” Dane said, as drew her arm out to him and soaped it carefully, gently scrubbing everything away. “Isn't that nice?” He was careful not to be too rough with her, fighting his natural inclination to rough up her skin with the loofah. After all, she would have deserved any ill treatment, especially after what her company had done to Benton.

She nodded, closing her eyes. She even sighed a little as her breaths began to become deeper and more full.

“I just think,” he started over again, as she started to relax, “That you could really help me and my brother with his case. That's what all this was from—me trying to help my brother.”

A twisted little smirk turned up the corners of her mouth. It was a beautiful look, but still cruel and unforgiving at its root. And any fruit from such a poisonous root was bound to be poisonous as well. “You must really love you brother,” she said, a sarcastic note to her voice.

Dane felt an impulse to pull her out of the bathtub and drag her back to the bed, but ignored it. That wasn't the way to do it. He clenched his jaw and tensed his shoulders. “I do.”

“Good,” she spat. “You two are going to be spending a lot of time together on death row. You're just as big a piece of shit as your dirt-bag, baby-murdering brother.”

The rage nearly reached a boiling point within Dane as the words left her mouth.

That was it. This plan wasn't going to work. The niceties he'd planned to use to change her mind weren't going to fly. And, just like any war, whether it was of the heart, the mind, or the body, when one tactic didn't work, you changed to meet the conditions on the field.

Dane knew the darkest, ugliest sides of human nature. He'd been to war, had seen what happened to men who gave into the desires within them—into their more destructive urges. And he knew the effects and aftermath when they were released on the world.

And now, Emily would know them, too.

# # #

Emily

As Dane lunged forward into the bathtub and grabbed hold of her soap-slick body, Emily knew she'd pushed the deranged vet too far. His eyes were wide, terrifying in their rage.

She flailed and struggled against him, clawing his arms, and slapping at his hands as he pulled her from the tub. Her legs banged against the porcelain sides of the bath, sending sharp, shooting pains through her body. Still, she kicked and flailed, beating at him with her fists. “Let me go!” she screamed.

“You're going to learn to see my side of things,” he said through clenched teeth, as he wrapped her wet body up in a bear hug. The scratchy wool of his slacks rubbed against her bottom and the buttons on his dress shirt dug into her back as he carried her back into the bedroom, her legs still kicking and flailing as she screamed in protest. “You're going to learn,” he said again over her protests, “to be nice.”

She kept up her struggle as he dumped her on the bed.

She shrieked as she fell through the air, rebounding off the mattress.

“Think I've been rough so far?” he yelled into her face, his own face beet red and the veins in his temples and neck straining. The front of his clothes were soaked through, and Emily could see how his shirt stuck to his well-defined muscles.

The sudden outburst shocked her. She recoiled from him, forgetting to even struggle.

“Stay!” he said more quietly, but still with an air of practiced command to it, before he stomped over to the bedroom door. He stopped at the door and looked back at her. “You move, and I'll know.”

Emily held her breath as he left the room. But she didn't move. It was like his words had somehow exerted some sort of mental lock on her.

God, what was happening to her? How was this her lot in life? She'd just wanted to get ahead, be successful, and live the American dream. Sure, she admitted she’d had to be a stone-cold bitch to reach her goals, but so did everyone. Didn't they?

Now she had this handsome vet, crazy though he was, lying on top of her while he did things to himself, commanding her around, and trying to break her will. He was heartless one moment, like when he'd groped her and led her by the leash. Then the next, he was almost caring, as he scrubbed her legs and washed down her arms. No man had ever done anything like this to her before. No man had dared to try. She was too strong for that, and would never it happen.

---