He withdrew his hand.
“No!” she cried, her hand going to his, fingers wrapping around his wrist.
Her cry sliced through him like a blade. He had been incorrect in what he’d told her the morning before. Even as tortured as her cry was, he suspected this was far more difficult on him than it was on her.
However, he’d chosen his path and he had to continue his efforts at her taming. She had no way of knowing but he knew the reward at the end would be worth the battle.
“Will you mind me?” he queried, his voice was harsh, not with anger but with regret.
Her hazy eyes struggled to focus on his face. “Lucien.”
“Will you mind me?”
He watched the haze clear, his words penetrating, incredulity flooding her face, quickly chased by anger.
“I fucking hate you,” she hissed but even as she did, her hips sought his, her body agitated, struggling with her desire.
Lucien sighed impatiently. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“You’re damn right it’s a no!” she snapped and her body wrenched unsuccessfully against his hold.
After this failure, she let out an enraged, strangled scream.
“Leah, you can end this now,” he told her.
“Go to hell!” she flashed.
“Do you want my mouth on you?” he asked.
“Go to hell!” she repeated.
“Do you want me inside you?”
She froze and shrieked, “Go to hell!”
He threw a thigh over her legs and captured her moving body against his. With a hand in her hair, he tucked her face in his neck.
“You’re very stubborn, pet,” he murmured into the hair at the top of her head.
Her body gave a mighty flex then went limp.
She grew silent. He held her closer.
After long moments, he said softly, “I’ll be leaving soon.”
She made no reply.
“While I’m gone, if you touch yourself, Leah, I’ll know and I’ll have to deal with that too.”
He could hear the pace of her heart increase but her body tensed only briefly before she subdued her reaction.
“Do you understand me?” he pushed.
She remained silent.
“Leah, I asked, do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she gritted between her teeth.
“I’ll be home at ten. We’re going out tonight. I want you ready.”
She didn’t speak.
“Leah, when I talk to you, you acknowledge what I say.”
“I’ll be ready,” she bit out.
“I want you wearing the black dress.”
She made an angry noise but whispered, “I’ll be wearing the black dress.”
His hand moved from her head to her jaw and with his thumb under her chin, he tilted her face up to receive his soft kiss.
Then he left her in bed and went to shower.
After he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, while he was reaching for a towel, in the sudden silence, he heard it.
His head shot up and cocked to the side.
Quietly, likely muffled in her pillow, he heard her sobs.
Good Christ. He’d broken her.
He’d fucking broken her.
He’d taken a huge step closer to her taming.
He’d expected to feel elation at this moment.
Instead, his eyes met his reflection in the mirror and he growled a low, slow, agonized, “Fuck.”
That night when he arrived home promptly at ten, he opened the door from the garage to the kitchen and found her there, waiting for him in the kitchen.
Her hair was swept back from her face to tumble in a mass of curls down her exposed back. She wore no jewels because she didn’t have any.
She didn’t need them.
The dress was spectacular, elegant and enticing. The spike-heeled, aubergine satin, strappy sandals were delicate, sexy and significantly lengthened her already tall frame, making her striking and, he suspected, to any other man but Lucien, even intimidating. Her makeup was smoky and dramatic, heightening the mystery behind her stunning but expressionless face.
Her eyes caught his and there was no flash, no dancing, they were completely blank.
“Hello, darling, how was your day?” she asked as if she was a robot and this was a prerecorded message set to play at appropriately programmed times.
Suddenly angry, he stopped five feet from her and commanded, “Come here, Leah.”
Without hesitation she moved to him.
His body tensed at her uncharacteristic acquiescence.
“Put your arms around me,” he went on.
She did as he demanded but her eyes remained at his throat.
“Look at me, pet.”
She immediately tipped her head back and caught his eyes.
Trying to read her mood, Lucien sought patience, wrapped an arm around her and cupped her jaw with his other hand.
“You’re angry with me,” he murmured and she shook her head.
“No, darling, why would you think that?”
His patience slipped. “Leah, stop it,” he ordered.
Her head tilted to the side in an unnatural movement. “Stop what?”
His eyes narrowed as her intent came clear. “So, this is your game now?”
“My game?” she asked with what sounded like genuine confusion.
He watched her carefully empty face. Then he decided, so be it.
He could work with this.
In fact, he had a feeling he’d enjoy it.
“I need to change,” he informed her and she made to move away but his arm tightened and he said, “No.”
She stopped and regarded him.
“Kiss me before I go upstairs.”
Without delay she got up on her toes, pressed against him and touched her parted lips to his.
Then she pulled away and asked, as if she sincerely cared about his answer, “Was that okay?”
He thought she’d have trouble with that.
She had no trouble with that.
She was good.
Therefore his tests would need to be more challenging.
“It will do,” he let her go, “for now.”
He walked away but she called to his back, “What do you want me to do while you’re changing?”
“Whatever you want,” he replied and imagined her first thought was to search the house for gasoline and matches.
Upstairs he changed his shirt and was walking back through the bathroom to join Leah when his eyes caught on something. He halted.
Looking in the trash bin, he saw taupe wisps of shredded silk and lace, the lilac-flowered imprints barely nuances in the tatters. He reached down and allowed the obliterated material of the lingerie Leah wore the night before to sift through his fingers.
He straightened, his mouth tightening at the same time he felt a similar sensation in his gut.
Then something profound cut through him. He didn’t understand it and he didn’t fucking like it. It was a feeling he’d never felt in his very long life and a feeling he never wanted to have again.
Last night, wearing that lingerie, she had run to him. Flung herself in his arms Told him she liked it when he bit back a smile. Rejoiced in the gifts he’d given her particularly the camisole and panties. Smiled at him for the first time. And passionately enjoyed her bloodletting.
Now, that lingerie, what would have been a physical reminder to both of them throughout their Arrangement of the splendor of last night, lay shredded and discarded in a trash bin.
And he, and his unwise decision to carry out her punishment even after she’d given glaring indication of what Edwina called “settling in”, was solely responsible for the bleak emotion evidenced in that fucking bin.
“Fuck,” he swore, his stare riveted to the scraps, his mind consumed with what they meant.
Then he cleared his thoughts and walked downstairs to Leah.
Chapter Eight