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“Fifty shades of grey is a bit similar to what I like, although I like my woman to be a little more vulnerable.” He cleared his throat and lowered his head again. “What do you say?”
“No contract, then?” I raised my eyebrows.
Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “Oh no, if we do this, I own you. There's no need for a contract.”
“Own me? I...” My heartbeat tripled as a hot flush rushed over my skin. “Why do I like the sound of that? I'm supposed to be a modern-day woman.”
Kissing me, Joe took my protest out of my mouth and ran his hands up my sides. I melted against him, unable to resist the power of his arms or the gorgeousness of his light touch.
Pulling away, Joe brushed my hair off my shoulder. “We should get going if we're going to get out of here before it gets dark.”
“Yes,” I said, reluctantly pulling away and holding his hand again.
He stayed quiet as we walked, concentrating on each step in an effort not to fall. I basked in the glow of his attention, flattered that he wanted me... out of everyone in the world, he wanted little old me.
“Did you create anything yesterday?” he asked, snapping me out of my happy moment.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, digging into my bag. “Yes. Here.”
Handing him the picture of my bedroom design, I grinned up at him. He stalled as he glanced down at it, his eyebrows raising as he studied each section.“I love how you've integrated the old with the new. That bureau looks great in front of the window and the book nook in the alcove, well, I think it works perfectly. That picture on the wall... you drew that too?”
He gave me back the paper and marched on, hobbling across the dry leaves. I tucked my design away and followed, fighting the disappointment that slowed my footsteps. Although he had praised my work, he hadn't been really impressed... not like Elissa.
“Um, yeah,” I said, remembering that he'd asked me a question about part of my design. “It was a tiny sketch of a woman, silly really.”
“That's what you should focus on next time.” He stopped and checked ahead of us, squinting through the dusk before he took his phone out again. “Still no fucking reception.”
I blinked as he tapped the phone against his palm. What had he meant when he'd said to focus on the tiny sketch next time? It was a miniature naked woman... oh.
“We better call the emergency services,” he said as I wrapped my arms around myself, “it's too cold and dark to try and find our own way out.”
Nodding, I waited while he dialled the emergency number, the only people we could call due to no signal. I knew that it would've taken a lot for him to admit defeat, especially since he was a man who wanted to be in control. As he spoke to the police, I sat on the floor and leant against a nearby tree. The cold damp from the leaves instantly wet the bottom of my coat, seeping into my leggings. I didn't have the enthusiasm to get up as the chill brushed my skin, making me uncomfortable. Why had we ventured out into the great unknown? We'd only been out for a few hours and we were lost. It proved that neither one of us was the outdoor type.
“Lola,” Joe said, gesturing for me to get up, “they're going to guide us out.”
Pushing up, I started to walk on wobbly legs. The memories of what had just happened made me warm, despite the cold. He'd said he wanted to own me, and boy, he'd done that in the tenderest of ways. I knew that he’d want to participate in extreme sexy play in the future, but the way he'd just made love to me, on the forest floor, overrode any fear I’d had about being his girl.
As Joe led us out of the forest, listening intently to instructions from the rescue team, I watched him closely. He was a hardened man, full of secrets that were mine to explore. Full of pain and hurt that needed to be calmed… by me. He believed he’d bring me to heel and soothe my wounds, but in return, I would find his pain… and destroy it so he belonged to me, just as much as I belonged to him.
Chapter Sixteen
Joseph
“I’ve met someone, mother,” I said, ignoring her scowl as I lifted the mug to her lips.
She took a sip of the warm coffee and closed her eyes, savouring the aftertaste of the whiskey I’d slipped in while making it. Considering I’d been the man of the family for years, I still felt like a failure every time I visited the woman who had birthed me.
“Who is she?” Her face contorted. “Some rich bitch?”
Smiling, I bent down to her and took her hands. She wrenched one away and tried to grab the steering stick on her wheelchair. I stilled her movement by softly cupping my hand over hers. “Mother, please, don’t be jealous.”
Her scoff was predictable as she glanced around the room, looking everywhere but at me. I followed her gaze, studying the creams and yellows of the drawing room. She had designed her grand house exactly as she wanted, with my help, of course. Ever since my father had paralysed my mother with his fists, I’d sworn to get the best for her. If I couldn’t protect her from her injuries, I would make her as comfortable as possible.
“You know how I despise these women,” she said, lifting her working hand to her hair and fluffing it.
My mother had the best care that money could provide. A live-in carer, a chef and even a PA. After the initial attack, I had fulfilled those roles as soon as she'd come home from the hospital, but a ten-year-old boy should never have had to wash his own mother.
“You act like I’ve been with ten million women.” Standing, I went over to the window and looked out. “She’s different.”
