Page 297 of A Vicious Love

She nodded, but it came unsteady.

“Say it back.”

Her brows drew together.

“Say what you heard.”

Her throat worked. “After the engagement, you weren’t with anyone.”

“Again.”

“You weren’t with anyone.”

“Who has me now?”

She stared at me.

“Say it, baby.”

Her voice barely rose above the water. “Me.”

“Yes.”

I kissed her forehead, then her cheek, and felt some of the panic loosen under my hands.

She leaned into me.

That was the part that broke through every ugly thing inside me. Even when she thought I had belonged to someone else. Years of me giving her every reason to stay guarded. Her body still came toward mine when I handled her carefully.

I had never deserved that.

I wanted it anyway.

“If you give me your submission,” I said against her hair, “you need to understand exactly what you’re giving it to.”

She went still again, but this time the fear was different.

I drew back enough to see her face. “I won’t be normal with it.”

“You keep saying things like that.”

“Because I mean them.” My fingers slid from her jaw down the side of her neck, stopping above her pulse. “I can be trained in restraint. I can negotiate, write rules, honor limits, stop the second you need me to stop. But I don’t want you in small portions, Sienna.”

Her breath changed.

“I’ll want rituals. Pillows for your knees in every house we live in. In my study. Beside the fire. Near the bed. In rooms where I work late and you want to be close without needing to talk. I’ll want you kneeling because it settles you, and me. The world can be chaos outside that room and still you’ll know where to place your hands.”

Her cheeks flushed.

“You’ll have rules,” I continued. “How you ask when your head is too full. How you tell me when you’re drifting. How you say no. How you say yes. How you kneel, how you rise, how I touch your neck, how I bring you back to yourself afterward.”

She stared at me, lips parted, water moving gently around her.

“I’ll want you in my lap while I read contracts. At my feet when you’re tired. In my bed every night I can get you there. I’ll want your mouth, your hands, your voice, your trust. I’ll want you looking at me when you’re embarrassed. I’ll want to know every blush I cause and every fear I need to dismantle. And when I say mine, I won’t mean quiet, decorative, obedient in the way your family taught you. I’ll mean watched. Chosen. Protected. Answered.”

Her fingers tightened on the marble.

“I sound insane,” I said.