Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
An alarming thought strikes me. I wonder if the whole beating thing goes both ways. “So if I step out of line, you’ll hit me?”
Beck shakes his head. “I would never beat you, Meggie. It’s different for a man. We’re bigger. We could hurt you. I know after what I did to you earlier you must think me a man of no honor, but I would never, never beat my woman. I might put you over my knee if I thought you were stepping out on me, but I would only use my hand.”
“You would spank me?” The words are supposed to come out as an outraged question. They’re supposed to show that I will never put up with such a thing. Instead, they come out as a breathless, curious query. The thought of being put over his knee, completely naked and open, and having that big hand smack my ass is stimulating. Though I can’t help but think about the one time I asked Michael to spank me. I was curious and desperate to put some spark into our marriage. He rolled his eyes and called me a pervert. Beck would likely think the same thing.
“If I had no other choice, I would spank you,” Beck says grimly.
I nod, trying not to think about how he would trace the line of my spine while I’m across his knee, open and vulnerable to him. I turn back to the fire so he won’t see how my cheeks are flushed as I think about how I would wait, anticipating the blow, my pussy getting wet at the thought.
“You talked about marriage and the Fae rules being in play when you got married. What did you mean if you weren’t talking about our marriage?” There is suspicion in his voice, like he already knows the answer.
It’s an effective way to shut down the arousal I feel. Thinking of Michael Starke immediately makes me think of humiliation. Despite my ex-husband’s assertion that I’m a pervert, humiliation isn’t my kink. “I was married once. We got a divorce.”
“He allowed you to get away from him?”
I laugh, but it’s a bitter sound. “He packed my bags and shoved me to the street. He literally did that. He needed me out of the apartment before his new girlfriend showed up. She was a nurse. She made more money than I did, so she could take better care of him than I could.”
“What?” Beck is on his feet, his hand rubbing his head as he paces. “He forced you to support him? What kind of a man was he?”
The truth is I’m tired of being pissed off about the divorce. Somehow the events of the last twenty-four hours make my rage at a marriage gone bad seem a small thing. Beck’s whole life was destroyed. At least Michael had the good sense to divorce me before we had kids. Our marriage was a mistake, and it’s past time to move on. “He was a young man. We were really young when we got married. I was only twenty-two. I was twenty-five when we divorced two years ago. We were stupid kids trying to be grownups. I wanted a family. He wanted to play Xbox and drink beer. It’s a typical American story.”
Beck’s hair is long and flows around his shoulders and down his back. He took it down after he got the fire going. It was an oddly erotic moment. His eyes were on me, and I watched as he brushed it out. Now, it’s a silken blanket around his body.
It’s also a fire hazard. I hold out my hand. “It was a long time ago, Beck, and in a galaxy far, far away. Please come back over here. I don’t want to have to put out your hair when it catches on fire.”
He looks back and seems surprised that he hadn’t caught that himself. He sits down. When I hold open the blanket for him, he moves close and wraps it around the both of us.
“Sorry, love,” he whispers. “I can’t imagine anyone letting you get away.”
“You must have a very small imagination,” I reply solemnly.
“I am not known for my creativity.” Beck frowns and stares at the fire.
He’s so serious. I can’t help but laugh. “I was teasing you. You take things too literally. Don’t give my ex another thought. I don’t intend to. He was an asshole.”
Dark eyebrows draw together. “You sound so much like Dante. Are you sure you’re not from the Vampire plane? They are entirely obsessed with anuses, too. I don’t understand it.”
I giggle and let my head drop to his shoulder. It’s an instinct, and I catch myself. I would have immediately brought it back up, but his hand is there, smoothing my hair down, holding me close. His arms go around me. He’s so warm. I give in and snuggle closer. He’s a furnace, and it’s chilly out here.