Page 21 of The Tower

“No?”

He moves toward me. “Let me be clear. I will protect you, Princess, but only so long as you fully comply with our agreement. From here on out, you will do as I say—what I say. And each and every yes that slips through those famous lips represents you choosing to remain under my protection.”

I tug my hand away. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

His smile is wolfish. “What isn’t part of this equation. You agreed to everything. I expect you to live up to that bargain.”

I tilt my head down, not quite able to meet his eyes when I say, “You’re talking sex.”

“Look at me,” he demands in a voice that makes clear I have no choice.

I look up to see that he’s stepped even closer, so close that I can see the hard lines of that gorgeous face and the ice in his pale blue eyes.

“Sex is too soft a word, Princess. Love is a fairy tale, and sex is a release. And the love of a good woman won’t fix a bad man. My mother learned that the hard way. So did yours.”

I want to ask what he means, but he continues on. “I don’t do relationships. I don’t have sex as if I’m having tea. I fuck. For the foreseeable future, I’ll be fucking you.”

Oh, I say. Except no sound actually comes out.

“I’ll have you, Sasha. And I will take the everything you pledged to me. But have no illusions. I’ll keep you safe from Victor because that was our agreement, but we are not riding off into the sunset when the curtain comes down.”

As if I’d want to! But I can’t get those words out, either.

“And I’ll tell you a little secret, Princess,” he adds, taking my hand and pulling me close. He puts one hand on my breast, the other over the lace of my dress, right at my core. He pushes the material between my legs so that I gasp at the pressure of his finger at my entrance. I stifle a moan, unwilling to let him see any reaction from me at all.

“I want to fuck you,” he whispers, that damn finger now teasing my clit and making my thoughts spin wildly. “I want to taint you. Not because of you, Princess. But because you’re the one pure thing your father has. I’ll take you and use you to get back at him. But I won’t keep you.” He steps back, breaking contact, and for a horrible, hateful moment, I mourn the loss.

“And that’s a good thing, he adds, “because I’m a man who would destroy you.” He takes a single step toward me. “I’ll use your body to get off. I’ll use you to get revenge. But I won’t hurt you—or if I do, I promise you’ll like it,” he adds with the slightest twitch of his lips. “And I’ll help you get free from your father and get Bane out of your life.” He pauses as if letting all that sink in.

“Then I’ll cut you loose, Sasha. I’ll set you free. But you’re going to pay the price before I do, and the price is everything. Mind. Body. Soul.”

His gaze rakes over me in a way I fear will leave my skin burned. “I’ll have you in my bed, Princess, and I intend to defile Victor Reed’s little girl in every way I can imagine. I want to see that famous face contorted in passion. I want to look down and watch you sucking my cock, with you knowing you’re locked in this tower with me.”

He reaches for a hip-length lock of hair that has come free of the clips and pins. Slowly, he runs it through his fingers. “Those are my terms, Rapunzel. And they’re non-negotiable. Do you agree? Or should I take you back to the gala?”

I lift my chin and force myself to meet those cold eyes, trying to parse out what he really wants from me. It can’t be sex—this is a man who could have any woman he wants, which means he wants me for some other reason I don’t yet see.

I start to ask, then hold my tongue. Because in the end it doesn’t matter. I need him, and that’s the bottom line. But that bottom line is underscored by a single, horrible truth—whatever his motive, I want him, too.

I want to be touched by fingers other than my own.

I want to know what it feels like to be real, and not merely a pretty little dress-up doll.

“Everything,” I finally say, taking pride in the way his eyes widen just a bit in subtle proof that I’ve surprised him.

“Everything and nothing, and that’s fine by me.” I slide my hands down the dress, then clutch the material, trying to keep them from shaking. “You’re the devil, Grimm. But this is the one time the saying is wrong. Because you’re the devil I don’t know. And compared to my father and Desmond Bane, you’re still the safer bet.”

For a moment, he simply studies me. Then he nods. “I’m glad we’ve reached an agreement. Make sure you stick to it. Break my rules—push me away, disobey—and you’ll find yourself on the street.” Amusement flickers over that sculpted face. “Perhaps you should have held on to that ring, Princess. It could have bought a lot of groceries.”

“Stop calling me that,” I snap, irritated that I’d thought that very thing about the ring. But it had felt so damn good when I’d tossed it.

I glance at Grimm, expecting him to argue. To say that he won himself a fairy tale princess, and that’s what he expects me to be. Instead, he takes a step closer, everything about him exuding dark power as he says, “My rules, Princess. Unless this is your way of asking to be punished?” His gaze rakes over me. “And wouldn’t that be fun?”

I force myself not to tremble. But it’s not Liam Grimm who scares me. It’s my reaction. The unnerving, unexpected thrill that races up my spine. The way my nipples tighten. The heat that floods the secret parts of my body.

And all from the way he pronounced that one horrible word: punish.

Because he didn’t pronounce it like a man about to dole out a beating, but as a man about to give a caress.