Page 148 of Jonas

Submit.

By careful, I meant I needed to get the fuck away from him. And by submit, I meant fall to my knees and beg him to override my control, beg him to overwhelm, command, dominate.

Just once.

I just wanted to experience it once—what it would be like to not be in control of everything. To know what it felt like to let go and be free.

And that was dangerous.

That went beyond filthy, lewd, indecent sex. I knew those things—I’d done them—but I’d always been in control. Every interaction had been under my power. I’d never not once allowed a man to ever have authority over me in any way.

The mere fact I was thinking these thoughts was perilous—no, they threatened to crumble the fortress I’d spent my life painstakingly erecting. The walls that had kept me safe.

And now kept the most important person in my life safe, too.

So now, more than ever, no matter how sexy he was, how much he called to me on a primal level that felt like it dated back centuries, I could not give in. Even if I knew the man who called himself King was indeed the only man I’d ever bow to, I couldn’t allow it. Because he, too, would be the only man on the planet who could ruin me.

In another life, he would’ve been mine. If I wasn’t who I was, who I’d been made to be…a woman who would never be safe, or free, or find redemption, or know love, I would absolutely be his.

But I never would be.

No matter how desperately I wanted to, I couldn’t be his woman.

I was once nothing more than a pawn.

I fought and lied and scratched and killed to make my way across the board.

Now, I was the Queen.

And I ruled my kingdom…never to have my King.

I was doing it again.

What I swore I’d never do, yet there I was, standing toe-to-toe with Cash while his sexy fucking mouth hurled insults shrouded in innuendo.

“That’s all you got, baby girl?” Cash taunted.

Baby girl.

Ugh, but also yum.

“For the last time, asshole, stop calling me that.”

Cash flashed me one of his million-dollar smiles. I kept my gaze locked onto his lips like a junkie getting a fix. And like the addict I was, I memorized that smile like I’d done with all the others he’d given me.

Unfortunately, being hypnotized by his amazing mouth meant I missed his feet bringing him closer.

“I think you like it,” he drawled.

He was soooo right.

“I think you’ve been hit in the head one too many times,” I shared.

Cash stepped closer, bringing his scent with him, and that’s all it was his scent, no cologne or aftershave or smell of soap or detergent—just him.

All him.

Uniquely him.