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I nod at him. It’s harder for me to speak now, with him glaring. He seems less angry with me and more pissed off in general, but he’s just as intimidating as ever. Especially in his dark bedroom, with shadows filling his sharp features.
Jonah is a thick slice of manly perfection, and Avery is art. But Spencer is… lovely. As beautiful as a sculpture by a master, shaded with stern shadows.
That isn’t the only difference. Avery has no discipline, but he always treats me like I’m made of glass. Spencer is the opposite—his air is controlled but not careful. There’s a roughness to the way he regards me.
And I like it.
He jerks his chin at his desk, the motion almost callous. But utterly in command. “Get my chair.”
My body moves without even consulting my brain. I grab the chair pushed under his wide, cluttered desk. It’s heavy—a solid wooden piece with a velvet cushion. I struggle a little, but force myself to carry it over, scared to drag the legs along the floor and displease him.
Which is wild.
Why do I care if I piss this alpha off? It’s not like I couldn’t walk out of the room. Or call for one of the others. Or—in an emergency—try to signal Tristan internally.
I don’t do any of that, though.
I just… obey.
And it feels good.
Calming. Like I don’t need to have a hundred thoughts and fears swirling in my head all at once. I just need Spencer’s dark gaze and his deep, even orders.
“Set it here.”
His foot taps a spot on the rug under his iron bed frame. I drop the chair there, and he nudges it back until it’s only six inches from the footboard.
“Wait.”
I grasp the towel knotted over my breasts, watching while he clips to his armoire and returns with two neckties. Without pausing, he secures each to a different iron slat along the end of his mattress.
When he’s finished, he turns and glares at me again. “I will sit here. You will be in my lap, facing the room, with your hands on the back of the chair. If you move them or try to touch me without permission, I will use the ties to bind you to the bed.” His silvery brow arches. “Understood?”
“Yes, Professor.”
Oh. My. God.
Whyyyy did I just say that?
I don’t know, but the air between us pulls taut. And for a moment, I’m sure he’ll laugh at me. Or—more likely, in Spencer’s case—kick me out.
Silly little?—
Instead, he curses under his breath. A ragged exhale rolls out of him. He lowers himself into the chair and spreads his long legs.
“Come here, darling.”
I move without a thought. Again. Until I’m between his bent knees, looking at him for more instructions.
When he sees my searching expression, something in his softens. His voice gets quieter but no less stern. “Drop the towel.”
My fingers pluck at the knot holding it up, shucking the whole thing. Spencer’s throat works, but he keeps his chin tilted up, watching my face closely instead of looking at my naked body.
“You like this, don’t you? Obedience.”
I swallow, not wanting to admit it out loud. Or even to myself.
It seems wrong. After everything I’ve been through, all the alphas who wanted to control me—it’s almost shameful to enjoy it.
