Page 72 of Tamed

He watched me intently, the weight of his stare making me tremble.

Some instinct I hadn’t known I possessed made me go down on my knees in front of where he sat, then I held the tumbler up to him.

His gaze flared with heat and satisfaction rolled through me. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told me he liked this too, had he? He did like it. He liked it a lot.

That’s where your power is, remember? You’re not the only one who’s hungry. He is too.

It was true, and I’d forgotten that. In fact, now I thought about it, there were all kinds of ways in which I had power here. The power of my surrender to him, the power of my trust. The power of his desire for me and how I could give him what he wanted, and how I could deny him too.

Because I could do that. I could say no. And I knew without doubt that Caleb would never overstep that line. That I could get up and walk away and he’d let me go. Of course, if I did that, this would never happen again, I knew that also, so obviously that wasn’t a choice I was going to make.

Not that I wanted to. No, what I wanted was to explore this dynamic between us, test my power.

Taking the scotch from me, he studied the tumbler a moment then took a sip. “Nice. Not too much water.”

I flushed, pleased with his praise.

He took another sip, staring at me over the rim of his tumbler. “See? It doesn’t have to be a performance all the time.”

I lifted my chin, even though the reassurance felt like balm to my battered soul. “Nothing wrong with wanting to do a good job is there?”

He gave me another one of those smiles, full of a dark amusement. “Little perfectionist. Just remember that you don’t have to earn my approval. You have it already.”

I opened my mouth in instinctive denial, but the look in his eyes stopped the words dead. Truth gleamed in the depths of his black gaze once more, an honesty I wasn’t expecting, and it was clear he didn’t expect me to respond, because then he released me and leaned back against the couch. “Come here.” He patted his thigh.

I took a deep, silent breath and got up from my knees, my heartbeat thumping hard in my ears, and eased myself onto his lap.

The denim of his jeans was still damp from the rain and so was the hoodie he wore, but I didn’t care. I could feel the heat of his hard, muscular body, smell his scent, spice and rain. Every inch of my skin felt sensitized and I was so aware of him I could hardly breathe. All of this felt overwhelming and abruptly emotion crowded in my throat, making my eyes prickle.

“Relax,” he murmured. “You’re stiff as a plank of wood.” One large hand came to rest on my hip, and he urged me to lean back against his chest, my head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I-I just—”

“Isabel.” His palm came to the back of my neck, gripping it. “Look at me.”

I turned my head, meeting his searching black stare, tense for no good reason. Only that I wanted him so much, but this wasn’t how I’d expected it to go and I was so desperately unsure of myself despite what he’d told me.

“Stop thinking.” He lifted his tumbler, took a sip, then bent and covered my mouth with his.

For a moment all I could do was lie there in his lap, trembling, and then the rich, alcoholic flavor of the whisky was in my mouth as he let me sip it from his. Warmth shot through me, from the whisky and the taste of him, a heady mix.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue in my mouth, exploring me with a slow, aching sensuality that made me moan. I shuddered, opening to him. His body was warm against mine, hot and hard, and he’d shifted, lifting his arm to keep my head turned towards him, cradling me against his shoulder.

All the tension in me melted away as quickly as it had come, replaced instead with a feeling of being safe, of being contained, surrounded by strength and warmth. There was no need to fight now, no need to prove anything. All I had to do was what he told me and trust that it would be good. And I did trust that. There was nothing he could do that I wouldn’t want.

But there are so many things you don’t know about him.

It was true. Yet he’d said I was his, and while I still didn’t really know what that meant, I did know that whether he was aware of it or not, it made him mine too.

And if he was mine, I wanted to know everything about him. He’d told me that all the rumors people said about him, all the dark things people whispered about him, were true. That he was a murderer, a dealer, a pimp, a thief. That he’d hurt people. That he had the police in his pocket and that was why he hadn’t gone to jail.

Well, if all of thatwastrue, then I needed to know. And I was going to find out. I was going to find outeverything.

20

Caleb

This wasn’t what I should have been doing. This being holding her in my arms and letting her curl up in my lap. Being easy with her. Telling her that I wanted her, that I would take care of her, that I wantedthis.Her, being my little girl, and only her.

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