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No.
It’s not possible. The bedroom door was locked and is still closed, as are the balcony ones.
“Looking for something?” he asks.
“Where did you come from? How did you get in here?”
“I’ll never tell.” Ignoring my questions, he crosses the room to me in three long strides, his strong hand tangling into the hair at the nape of my neck. “Now, you tell me something.”
“What?” The tension crackles in the air between us, thick and suffocating.
Straight white teeth flash in his open grin. “Have you settled on a date for our wedding?” His grip on my hair tightens, pulling me closer to him until our faces are only inches apart.
I can feel the heat radiating off his body and sense the raw power he holds over me. But defiance burns hot in my veins, a fierce determination to resist his dominance. “Let me go. I’m never going to marry you.”
"You think you have a choice in this, love?" His voice is low and dangerous, a warning laced with desire. I can see the hunger in his eyes, the need to conquer and possess. And yet, there are glimmers of something else there, too. Desire. Longing.
Telling me I, too, have power at this moment—a power I don’t yet know how to harness.
In one swift motion, he releases my hair and steps back, his expression hardening again. Without a word, he reaches for a leather whip hanging on the wall, its long strands coiled like sleeping serpents.
A black leather cat-o’-nine-tails. I’m so confused; I would have noticed a sexy toy on the wall of my soft, feminine, pretty room, all pink paint and pastel fabrics. Though the way he’s holding it, it looks much more like a terrifying tool for punishment.
“That wasn’t there,” I stammer, staring at the whip in shock.
“But it’s here now.”
“When did that get there?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
A smirk plays on his lips as he stops in front of me. "A gift from a previous guest," he replies, running a finger along one of the leather strands.
My mind races.
Who was in this room before me? How many women has he had like this? And did those women experience the same fear and arousal I’m feeling now? To my shock, there’s another emotion there, a hint of jealousy creeping in. The thought of him doing intimate things with other women leaves me a bit off-kilter.
I push those thoughts aside, focusing on the heat of this moment and the intimidating man before me.
He moves closer. I want to step away from him, but the chest and the bed are behind me. I’m pinned between him and the furniture. He trails the whip down my arm. The leather ends drag softly and slowly over my skin, leaving chill bumps on my flesh and my heart racing.
"Do you know what this is for?"
I shake my head, not wanting to speak for fear that my voice will break and I’ll reveal my nervousness.
"It's for discipline," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "For when you disobey me."
My heart races even faster at his words, realizing I am truly under his control now. And yet, despite my fear, there is also an undeniable thrill coursing through me.
He suddenly pulls away and walks over to the bed, turning back to face me with a devious smile. "Get undressed."
“No. No way.”
One thick brow rises to the sky. “Now.”
Slowly, I pull down the leggings, stepping out of them. I remove the slouchy sweatshirt, momentarily blinded as I pull it over my face. In my haste to escape, I’d put on nothing underneath.
My cheeks are flushed with embarrassment, and my hands cover my most intimate parts as he stares at me with a predatory gaze. I've never felt so exposed and vulnerable, but at the same time, something inside of me is awakening.
“Dinnae hide from me what belongs to me.”
