Chapter 11

I’d read enough books to understand the concept of a safe word. That wasn’t why I’d repeated the phrase to him. I’d been confused as to why he wanted my safe word. I’d just told him I was leaving.

And now…

Now I wasn’t leaving.

Not with his palm branding the back of my neck and his forest-green eyes holding mine.

He wants a safe word.

He wants to begin.

How had we even arrived at this point? Did I even want to reject him?

Not with him staring down at me like that. It was an intense look. One that made me go weak in the knees.

“Goldilocks,” I whispered, my stomach twisting with the nickname. “My safe word is Goldilocks.”

His nostrils flared in response, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Goldilocks. An interesting choice.”

“I’m not ten anymore.”

“No, you’re twenty-two,” he replied before I could give him my age. Then his focus slowly shifted downward to my breasts before returning to my face. The blatant interest in his gaze nearly sent me to my knees.

That was the look of a man who wanted a woman.

And Logan Pierce was directing it at me.

“Goldilocks,” he said again, nodding. “All right. Hold up your hand.”

I swallowed but did as he demanded, leaving one palm on his chest while I lifted the other in the air.

“Hold up your first two fingers and curl the others,” he instructed.

I obeyed, keeping just my index and middle fingers up.

“Squeeze them together.”

I did.

He released my waist but maintained his grip around my nape. His hand engulfed mine as his thumb stroked the two fingers in the air. The touch burned even through the gloves.

“If you can’t find your voice or your mouth is otherwise engaged, and you need to safe-word, then hold up two fingers just like this. The scene will stop immediately.”

Such serious words spoken in a voice that made my stomach tighten with anticipation.

“Tell me you understand,” he said.

“I understand, Sir.”

His irises darkened to a smolder. “Good girl.” He released my hand. “Now remind me of your safe word.”

I frowned. Did he already forget?

“It’s how we begin the scene,” he added, obviously seeing the confusion on my face. “I ask for your safe word. You say it. We begin.”

Oh, shit. We really are going to do this. My pulse thrummed to life in my ears, making me feel a bit light-headed. But my insides burned with interest.

I’d never seen this side of Pierce.

And I very much wanted to see more.

He arched a dark brow. “What’s your safe word, Jenica?”

“Goldilocks,” I replied, my voice raspier than I’d intended.

He dipped his chin and released me. “Good. Now take off the dress.”

I gaped at him. “What?”

He canted his head, eyeing me with interest. “I assume those gloves match whatever you have beneath the dress. I want to see it.” He took a step back. “And you should know that I don’t like repeating myself.” With that, he started toward a bar area set off in the corner of the room. I hadn’t really noticed it when surveying my surroundings, my focus having been on the modern colors and then the door.

But now my attention was on him and his all-black suit.

He was sin personified, strolling over to the bar as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

I shivered.

“Jenica,” he said, his voice low and underlined with warning. “Are we going to begin this scene with a punishment, or are you going to do what I asked?”

He wasn’t even looking at me, yet he knew I hadn’t moved an inch.

Swallowing, I debated my options—obey or disobey.

The former seemed easier.

So I tugged at the zipper along my side to begin removing the dress.

I’d chosen sexy black lace to wear beneath, just in case I found someone to spend the evening with. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that someone would be Pierce.

But I was eternally grateful that it was him.

And that I’d worn this thong and a thin-strapped bra.

They were both mostly translucent, but with enough of an embroidered design to make the lingerie pretty.

“Good choice,” he murmured as he lifted up a bottle to read the label. He still wasn’t facing me, but I suspected he’d heard the rustle of fabric.

When I finished, I folded the dress and set it on the bench at the foot of the bed.

“Kneel for me on the rug,” Pierce said, still not looking at me. “Hands in your lap, just like Adalyn demonstrated. Head bowed.”

He set the bottle down and grabbed a glass, then started playing with the ice cube bucket.

For someone who had claimed to want me out of my dress, he didn’t seem all that interested in seeing the results.

Rather than question him, I moved to the only rug in the room—which happened to be near the bench at the foot of the bed—and carefully went to my knees.

The braided fabric smarted against my skin, making it an uncomfortable sensation. Somehow, the marble floors of the main room had felt better.

But I didn’t comment or complain.

Instead, I bowed my head and waited.

Pierce said nothing, his movements across the room all I could hear.

The clink of ice cubes against a glass.

The sound of liquid being poured.

The bottle being returned.

Silence.

I swallowed, the desire to lift my head nearly overwhelming my thoughts. But I suspected that would defeat the purpose of this pose.

My palms began to sweat, anticipation warming my veins. What is he doing? Is he looking at me right now? Is he still staring at his glass?

It took physical restraint not to look for him.

My knees began to protest, the rug biting into my flesh.

Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.

Seconds turned into minutes.

He still hadn’t said a word. Did he leave the room?

I almost frowned. No. I would have heard that.

He would have had to walk by me as well. Unless he moved along the edges of the room. I couldn’t see that or him in my peripheral view. And my focus was primarily on the stone floor beyond the rug.

Goose bumps pebbled along my arms, not from the chill but from the heightened sense of awareness around me. I… I felt exposed. Watched.

So he is looking at me, I marveled. Unless I’m losing my mind.

No. I could feel his intense stare from across the room. It resembled a brand against my skin that left me feeling warm and desired.

“You’re gorgeous, Jenica,” he murmured, confirming that he was studying me. “That was my first thought when you walked down the aisle in that sexy dress. It was the slits that killed me, giving me teasing glimpses of your legs as you walked.”

My heart skipped a beat. He watched me at the wedding?

“Then you showed up in my class.” His voice was closer now, the deep tenor an alluring caress to my senses. “And for your first assignment, you wore that damn dress with those fucking boots.” He growled, the sound making me shiver. “I wanted to bend you over my desk and spank the disobedience out of you.”

I could feel him behind me now, the heat of his legs warming my exposed back.

“You wore that outfit to make a statement, didn’t you?” His fingers threaded through my hair, taking a fistful of my strands. He tugged my head back to meet his gaze as he stood over me. “A sexual statement.”

“I was advertising, Sir.” The answer slipped from my mouth unbidden, my need to confirm his statement overriding all thought.

He hummed in agreement. “Just like you’re advertising yourself now.” He lifted his drink to his lips, his opposite hand still in my hair.

“Yes, Sir.” Calling him Sir seemed natural to me. I couldn’t define why. Perhaps it was the same reason I didn’t mind thinking of him as Professor Pierce. It gave him a ring of authority that I found appealing.

His throat moved as he sipped the contents of his drink. He’d removed his suit jacket at some point, leaving him in just the button-down shirt—the sleeves of which he’d rolled to the elbows. It left the ink of his forearms exposed, which I found hot as hell.

I also loved the way the light above glinted off the piercing in his eyebrow. He resembled a sexy badass with all his tats and expensive clothes.

Part of the reason for my own ink was because of him.

And also because I enjoyed art.

I’d paired the two loves together by creating my own design and having it put on the same arm he’d used for his first sleeve.

I supposed that qualified as an unhealthy obsession.

Couldn’t say I minded much right now while observing him from my knees.

“That look in your eyes has me wondering a thousand different things,” he said, slowly lowering his glass. “What are you thinking about?”

“Your tattoos, Sir,” I admitted. “And my own.”

“Hmm.” He glanced down at my lace-clad hands. “Remove the gloves.”

I gently pulled them off, then placed them on the rug beside me.

“Lift your arm so I can see your work.”

My insides did a little dance as I obeyed, my stomach suddenly in knots as I wondered what he would say.

He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze intent. Then he took another sip of his drink and released me. “Don’t move.”

The words froze me in place, my neck awkward as I continued to stare up at where his face had been.

I heard a soft clank as he set his drink down. Then he returned to grab my hand and pull it higher. He stood behind me again, his strong legs against my back. His opposite palm went to my throat as he held me there, his focus still on my wrist and forearm.

“You designed this.” Not a question. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He bent and pressed his lips to my inner wrist before releasing my hand. “You’re doing very well, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I repeated, his praise sending a wave of warmth over me.

“However, I’m still disappointed in you for wearing that outfit to my class. You made focusing impossible. I was hard the whole goddamn time.”

I tried not to smile in response, but I couldn’t stop my lips from curling. Because he’d just admitted that I’d turned him on. In class.

“I see,” he murmured, his palm tightening a little around my throat. “You’re not sorry at all.”

I considered that. “No. I can’t say that I am.”

His gaze narrowed.

“Sir,” I added belatedly, swallowing at that intense look.

“So you enjoyed teasing me.”

I frowned. It hadn’t been about teasing him, necessarily. “I just wanted you to see me as an adult.”

“Be assured, Jenica darling, I absolutely see you as an adult.” He pressed his legs more firmly into my back, which brought his groin close to my head.

Using his hand on my throat, he guided me backward into his prominent arousal.

My lips parted at the feel of him, my fingers tingling with the desire to touch him. But I’d returned my palms to my thighs when he’d released my wrist.

“I feel like I’ve been perpetually hard around you for months, Jenica,” he confided. “And that fucking dress with those fuck-me boots have haunted my dreams.”

My lips started to curl again, the idea that he found me attractive making my heart soar with excitement.

But his darkening expression told me that smiling was the wrong response.

“You like teasing me.” Not a question, but a statement. “That’s all you’ve done for weeks now.”

I parted my lips to argue that I hadn’t done it on purpose, but his grip tightened around my throat in warning.

“You may only speak when I ask you a direct question,” he informed me, his voice deep and authoritative.

My first instinct was to argue and tell him to go fuck himself. I would speak whenever I damn well wanted to, thank you very much.

But then I caught the glint in his gaze.

This is part of the scene.

He wanted a reason to punish me because I hadn’t actually done anything wrong. I’d obeyed his every command.

Teasing himwas something he could use against me now, even if that hadn’t been my intent at all.

I lowered my gaze, telling him I understood the game now. Or I thought I did, anyway.

What would he do to punish me? I wondered, my thighs clenching. Will I like it?

Suddenly, I wanted to play along just to find out. “I’m sorry, Sir,” I whispered, the words feeling right.

“A lie,” he replied, his fingers combing through my hair. “But I’m about to make it a reality, baby. Now stand up and get on the bed. I want you on your back, knees bent, and legs spread.”

He fisted my strands again to yank back my head as he bent to press his lips to my ear.

“I’m about to tease you until you can’t see straight. We’ll see how you feel about your behavior then. And if your apology becomes more believable, maybe I’ll let you come. If not, well, at least you’ll know how you’ve made me feel these last few months.”

He released me, and I nearly fell on the floor.

Because oh my God.

This had to be the hottest I’d ever been in my entire life.

I felt like I was going to melt.

Die.

Scream.

Maybe cry.

And beg.

It was a torrent of reactions that left me breathless.

“What did I say about repeating myself?” Pierce snapped, his domineering presence shooting electric sparks down my spine.

Why is this so damn attractive? I wondered, dizzy with the need to obey him.

It took all the guesswork out of everything. All I had to do was let him lead.

And enjoy the ride.

Or in this case, let him tease me to his heart’s content.

Yes, please.