His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(52)
Author: Shayla Black

After doing what little she could with her hair, Bailey pondered snooping through the bedroom again to figure out what exactly some of the sex toys in the nightstand did or flipping on the TV. She was about to open a drawer when she heard another knock at the door, this one firm, decisive.

Joaquin. Somehow, she knew he’d returned.

Bailey dragged in a nervous breath, anticipation and dread swirling in her belly. “Come in.”

Sure enough, the door flung open, and he filled the frame—all six-plus feet of him with broad shoulders straining a white V-neck T-shirt, showing off a chest as hard as concrete. He kissed like a man who knew how to make a woman melt. He spanked like a Dom who had a point to make. He was insistent. Sure of himself. He was nothing like any of the boys she knew. Damn it, if that didn’t excite her.

“Good morning. I have to talk to you about last night.”

She crossed her arms. That conversation would be totally embarrassing. “Can’t we just forget it?”

“No.” He stepped in and shut the door behind him, locking it. “I upset you. That wasn’t my intention. I’ve never hit a woman in my life. I’ve never spanked one, either. You . . .” He shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t have an excuse. I pushed you. I scared you. I hurt you. I’m sorry. That won’t happen again.”

Guilt pummeled her. He might have pushed her, but he hadn’t done anything she hadn’t enjoyed. “You didn’t scare me. Or hurt me.”

His entire body froze. “Then what did I do to you?”

“Nothing, really.” Just stirred up my blood and made me ache for you. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Even now, the lie sat heavy on her conscience. “I’m fine.”

Joaquin closed the remaining distance between them and grabbed her chin. “Look at me. Since I didn’t hurt you, did my actions offend you?”

“No,” she breathed, unable to look anywhere except into his eyes. Why did she feel as if she could get lost here, as if he would always catch her and hold her upright even as he kept her off balance. “You shocked me.”

He nodded as if that was a given. “It shocked me, too. Especially that I liked it.”

Wow, that was honest. She opened her mouth to say she had, too, but the words just wouldn’t come.

“What about you?” he demanded.

Bailey blew out a breath. How was she supposed to answer him? You made me wet enough last night to masturbate? “I . . . didn’t hate it.”

His grip on her chin tightened a fraction. He frowned, his gaze deepening as if he wanted to pick her thoughts apart. “Were you at all aroused?”

Why couldn’t he be like so many of the people she’d met during her years of dance, polite and indirect, folks who rarely pinned her down to force out an uncomfortable reply? Even Blane often let her off the hook.

She swallowed, trying to escape Joaquin’s hold and his gaze. He allowed neither.

“Let go,” she murmured, aware that she had no real power in this situation.

“Not until you answer me. And if you won’t, we’ll repeat last night until I figure it out.”

Against her will, her breath caught. The memory of his hand on her ass made her heart pump, her insides flare with heat.

Joaquin stared, not missing a thing. He scanned her flushed cheeks. His gaze fell to the pulse hammering at her neck. Then that burning stare dropped to her breasts, zeroing in on their tingling tips poking desperately at the fabric of her shirt.

He knew. That knowledge flared in his hazel eyes, which looked even more green as the sunlight streamed into the room and across his face. She had nowhere to run or hide to escape his insistence.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Bailey berated herself. She owed him the truth. But hell if it wasn’t embarrassing to admit that she found the guy who’d taken her from her home and spanked her against her will hot.

“Bailey?” he prodded. “I haven’t been less than honest with you.”

“I know.” But she still couldn’t look at him.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded, waiting until she’d complied. “Did you find my spanking arousing? Because if you need me to confess first, I’ll be perfectly happy to tell you that it turned me on like nothing else to see my hand on your pale skin. The redness I left behind after every blow—the marks I’d given you—made me beyond ready to finish stripping you down and fuck you. Does that make it easier for you to tell me the truth?”

She felt her jaw drop, even as desire stung her. “You can’t say that.”

“Why?” His free hand lifted to her waist, skimmed up her rib cage—and kept climbing.