Chapter Twenty-Six

October 18

New York City

C lara was just settling in at her desk to review a chapter of her dissertation when, again, the noises of someone fiddling with her door had her looking up. She watched as the deadbolt latch rotated, then scrambled to the kitchen and grabbed a carving knife from the block.

The door flew open.

Miles Buchanan stood in the doorway like an avenging angel. He was still sweaty from a workout, wearing trainers, a gray T-shirt, and loose-fitting sweatpants. The needle on her emotional spectrum swung from fear to relief and finally settled on fury.

Clara started to unleash her wrath, but Miles beat her to it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he barked.

She set the knife on the island and snapped, “How did you get in? Do you have a key to my apartment?”

Miles strode in like he owned the place. “Oh, please. You come and go at will at my place. Are you really going to throw some hypocritical outrage in my face?”

With a calming breath, Clara said, “Fine. I would like to know how you got a key.”

“I copied yours. Lifted it from your bag when we ran that con over the summer.”

Clara rolled her eyes and walked into the kitchen. “Whatever.”

Miles held up his phone, showing Clara’s dating app profile. “I thought we settled this.”

As she suspected, he had accessed her account. “We did settle it. You’re going to stop interfering in my personal life, and I will stop making your life miserable.”

“No, Clara. We agreed you would stop dating strangers you meet online, and you will stop making my life miserable.”

Clara walked to the kitchen and examined the drink options in the fridge, settling on an Orangina. “We seem to have reached an impasse.”

“What are you playing at?”

She gave the bottle a shake and twisted off the cap. “Nothing, Miles. In addition to my fulfilling work and friends, I am trying to have a sex life. I asked for your help. You refused, so I’m doing what every normal, single, red-blooded woman does.” She tipped her head to the open dating app on his screen. “You are the one who is playing, not me.”

“This,” Miles shook the phone. “Is not safe.”

“Millions of people do it. I have six requests out to perfectly respectable, law-abiding men.”

“Don’t test me, Clara.”

She brushed by him on her way to the living area, ticking off her options on her fingers. “Dante is a football coach at a junior college. Mario is a waiter. Jamie is unemployed but has an engineering degree. David—”

Clara was cut off by a hand over her mouth. Miles spun her around and lifted her over his shoulder with no effort. Then he leveled a fierce smack on her ass, eliciting a yelp. Clara had never been spanked in her life. Her response was… unexpected.

Masking her excitement, Clara barked, “What the hell, Miles? Put me down!”

Miles didn’t reply until he dumped her unceremoniously on the bed with a bounce. Clara stared up at him, wide-eyed and speechless.

“You want to get fucked?”

She blanched at the term, a wonderful combination of panic and arousal running through her veins. Clara tried to muster some bravado, but her voice sounded timid and vulnerable. “What are we going to do?”

“Answer my question.”

Clara gave a jerky nod.

“With words, Clara.”

She finally found her backbone and propped herself up on her elbows. “Yes, I want to get fucked.”

His expression didn’t change, but his eyes flashed at her defiance. “Then let me be clear. In this room, I give the orders. The only words I want to hear from you for the next two hours are ‘Yes, Miles’ or ‘No, Miles.’” He stepped closer, towering over Clara at the foot of the bed. “Do you understand?”

Two hours? “Yes, Miles.”

His half-smirk seemed to say, You don’t know what you’re in for . And she didn’t, but this was Miles. She might hate him, but she trusted him.

“Good,” he said, pulling off his T-shirt by the back of the neck. “Then let’s begin.”