Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

Looking up from my e-reader the next evening, I sighed at the cat sitting in front of me on the bed. She was staring at me, twitching her tail. “He’ll be here when he’s done in his office,” I told her.

Dane had been very insistent the first night he brought her home that Blue didn’t sleep in the room with us. But after hearing her meowing and scratching at the door for what felt like hours, he’d given in. She didn’t actually sleep near us, though. She made herself comfy on my closet shelf. Understanding she’d claimed the spot as her own, I’d moved her bed in there.

When Dane had earlier headed upstairs to his office after dinner, I brought her to my room. I’d fed, petted, and played with her before she disappeared into the closet for a nap. But, yeah, she was apparently tired of me now. She wanted her hero.

I went back to my e-reader, needing to wind down a little. I felt completely wired. Up until now, I hadn’t been nervous about the reception. I mean, it was just a party. But now that it was only two days’ away, I felt constantly restless.

I wasn’t nervous in a bad way. It was the kind of nervousness you felt during the run-up to something important. There was a sprinkle of anticipation and a thread of excitement all mingled in with it.

It only made it better that Heather was officially uninvited. Neither Melinda nor Wyatt had objected or been upset with Dane’s decree that she wasn’t to attend. Which was a very good thing, because nothing they could have said would have made him change his mind. They’d just stared at their daughter, their eyes sad.

Heather had stormed out of the house, dragging Junior with her. She hadn’t been bothered that her invitation was revoked. No, she’d been pissed that her parents didn’t put up a protest. And it was then I realized why she’d claimed to be dating Owen. It wasn’t merely to hurt me. She’d wanted Dane to kick up a fuss so that her parents would intervene. She’d expected them to defend her and toss Dane out of the house, knowing I’d have left with him. And then, bingo, she’d have finally caused a divide between me and her parents.

It was a good plan. Her parents had always defended her in the past, so she’d had every reason to be certain that they’d do so again. Hell, even I hadn’t expected them to speak up last night. Although I was glad that they did, I was sad that they’d been put in a position where they had to do so.

They were hurting now and worried she’d keep Junior from them out of spite. She probably would, but only until she needed a babysitter. Then she’d appear at their door and act like she was doing them a favor by letting them see their grandchild. Really, she’d just want him off her hands for a short while.

When Melinda called me last night to apologize for Heather’s behavior—to which I, as usual, told her it wasn’t necessary—she also asked about the whole blackmail thing. I advised her to ask Heather, figuring the annoying woman had the right to tell her parents herself, but then Melinda’s voice cracked, and she got all emotional and … well, I told her the truth. It didn’t go down well, and I suspected Wyatt would be equally upset.

Hearing my phone chime, I nabbed it from the nightstand and glanced at the screen. I smiled on seeing it was a text message from Dane.

I swiped my thumb over the screen and opened up the message: No, if I start going out at night, Vienna will ask questions. She’ll think about those pictures again and wonder if I was lying. I warned you we wouldn’t see each other as much until I divorced her. You said you could deal with it, so deal with it. I’ll come to you when I can. You’ve got no reason to feel jealous, you know you’re the only one I want.

I stilled, and my thoughts scattered … like my mind just went blank and couldn’tcompute the words—or as if it didn’t want to.

I shook my head and blinked hard. That text was … it didn’t make any … was it some kind of joke?

No, Dane didn’t joke.

I re-read the message. My hand clenched tight around the phone. I genuinely couldn’t wrap my head around the content. One thing was clear. He hadn’t meant to send this message to me. He was responding to a text from someone else. Someone who was “the only one” he wanted.

Pain stabbed my chest, and the phone slipped from my hand. I began to shake, and my breaths started coming sharp and fast. No. No, he couldn’t have been fooling me all this time. There was no way. There couldn’t be anyone else. He slept in my bed with me. He wouldn’t do that if he had another woman in his life.

Unless … Oh God, what if he’d only started fucking me to throw me off the scent? My stomach twisted painfully.

Questions suddenly crowded my mind. Was the woman Lacey? Had they grown close after Hugh died? Had she ever really been a call girl? Was her name even Lacey? Or could this be someone completely different? Had he pictured the bitch when he fucked me?

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. This could not be happening. It made no sense. None.

Maybe he hadn’t sent the text. Maybe someone had taken his phone. Maybe they’d cloned it.

Or maybe I was just desperate to believe I hadn’t let him play me all this time.

I wanted to think he’d never do that to me. I wanted to think—no, trust—that, if nothing else, he’d have more respect for me than to do something like this. I’d begun to believe that I mattered to him in some way. Now? Now it seemed I’d been fooling myself. And he’d been fooling me too.

Hot tears burned the backs of my eyes. My throat felt so tight I was surprised it hadn’t closed over. I quickly pinched the spot between my thumb and forefinger to fight back the tears. I was not going to cry. Nor would I shout or rave or yell at him. No, if he’d really been playing me all this time, he wasn’t worth the emotional energy. And I’d be damned if I’d let him see just how much he’d wrecked me.

Not intending to wait for him to appear, I grabbed my cell and slipped out of the room, leaving Blue behind.

Blue …

I came to a halt. He’d gone to a cat rescue center, he’d brought home a gorgeous cat, gifted her to me as my something blue. Why would he do something so sweet if he had another woman? He wouldn’t, would he?

Maybe he wasn’t having an affair. Maybe he was just placating some delusional woman who wanted him for herself.

Or maybe I was trying to think up excuses so I wouldn’t have to face that he’d betrayed me.

Well, I wasn’t going to get answers if I stayed in this spot.

I padded down the hallway toward his office, feeling a little like I was walking to my doom. I didn’t knock on the door, I walked straight in. He wasn’t at his desk, but the computer was on.

I looked at the private bathroom and saw that the door was shut. My eyes darted back to his desk. His phone was right there. I could check his messages. I could get the answers I wanted for myself … if it wasn’t for the none too small matter that I’d probably need his fingerprint to unlock it.

Nonetheless, I hurried over to the desk and picked up the cell. I swiped my thumb over the screen.

Use your fingerprint or enter pin.

Fuck. Grinding my teeth, I set the phone back on the desk. A sheet of paper caught my eye. I frowned, tilting my head. Then I realized what I was looking at, and my world tipped upside down.

Plaintiff.

Dane Davenport.

Respondent.

Vienna Davenport.

Petition for Divorce.

My stomach sank, and my heart squeezed. He wanted to dissolve the marriage early? What, he wanted to get back to his girlfriend?

More tears pooled in my eyes. I stuck my tongue to the roof of my mouth to fight them off. It worked, but a horrible pressure built and built and built in my chest. A pressure to cry and scream and demand why the fuck he’d done this to me.

So Blue had been, what, a goodbye gift? Had he been trying to tell me it was over? Had I just not read the signs?

I heard a toilet flush followed by the creaking of hinges as the door to the private bathroom opened behind me.

“Vienna,” he said, sounding surprised.

I slowly turned, still holding the first page of the divorce petition in my hand. “Something you want to tell me?” My voice sounded dead even to me.

He glanced at the sheet of paper I was holding. His eyes met mine again, and there was no emotion there. “I was going to talk to you about it today.”

“Of course you were.” I swallowed around the clog of emotion in my throat and, shit, it hurt. “Well, I’ll sign it for you right now, shall I? It’ll be easier for you.”

“Vienna—”

“No, really, I might as well get it done.” I slapped the paper onto the desk, snatched a pen from the holder, and scribbled my signature on the required line. “There. Now you can get back to your girlfriend. You obviously miss her.”

He frowned. “My what?”

Oh God, the tears were going to fall. “Have a nice life, Dane.” I made a beeline for the door, needing to get out, out, out. I wouldn’t cry in front of him.

The bastard slid into my path. “Wait, we’re going to talk.”

I hissed. No, we were fucking not. “Move.”

“You’re upset, I get that, but—”

“I’m not upset. I’m pissed. Pissed that I bought your lies and let you play me.”

His brows snapped together. “What are you talking about?”

“You sent me the message by mistake.”

“What message?”

“Your reply to her text.”

“Vienna, I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

I brought up the message on my cell. “I’ll read it out for you.” I recited every word clearly, concisely, calmly … like I wasn’t falling apart inside. I looked back at Dane, who was still frowning.

“Let me see.”

“No.” I stuffed my cell in my pocket and stared at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m done here. Move.”

“Look at me.”

I didn’t.

“Look at me.”

Yeah, I still didn’t.

“I did not send you that message, Vienna.”

I snickered. “Oh, I received it by magic, did I?” His hand reached for my jaw, and I slapped it away. “Don’t fucking touch me. I believed you about those pictures. God, I am such an idiot.”

“Baby girl—”

“Don’t call me that.”

A muscle in his cheek ticked. “I didn’t send the text, Vienna.”

“Well it couldn’t have been anyone else, could it? Your phone is right there.”

“I’m a very careful man. Do you think I would accidentally send you a message of any sort? Is it something I’ve done before? Wouldn’t I at least notice the fuck up?” He took a small step closer to me. “The message was spoofed.”

I felt my brow pinch. “Spoofed?”

“There are websites people can sign up to that allow them to email, call, or text people while concealing their ID. All they’d have needed to do to send you this text was enter your number as the message receiver and then enter my number as the person they want you to believe sent it. It’s that easy.

“A big tell-tale sign that a message has been spoofed is that the name of the apparent sender comes up as gray rather than the clickable blue. Look at all the other text messages you’ve received from me. I’ll bet my name comes up as blue for them, and I’ll bet it comes up as gray for the one you received just now. Check. Humor me.”

I pulled out my cell and checked the past messages that I’d received from him. His name showed up blue every time. But, sure enough, it showed up gray for the incriminating text I’d just received. And that might have brought me some measure of relief if I hadn’t found divorce papers on his desk.

I pocketed my cell and shrugged. “So the message was spoofed. Fine. Whatever. It doesn’t even matter now. I signed your papers; I gave you your divorce. Whether you’re with someone else is not my business and does not have to matter to me.”

“I don’t want a divorce, Vienna.”

“What, you draft up shit like that for fun? Is that what you’re saying? Oh my God, I can’t deal with you right now.”

“I don’t want a divorce. Not now. Not ever. What I want is for you to stay with me. I made that pretty clear.”

I stared at him, at a loss. “Are you high?”

“Why else do you think I got you that fucking cat?”

“Because she’s all you can give me.”

“That’s what you think?” He exhaled heavily. “Jesus, Vienna. I made the decision that night in New York that I was keeping you. I could tell the next morning that you hadn’t worked that out for yourself. But I said nothing, because I knew you’d doubt that I was capable of being in a relationship. And I was right to think that, wasn’t I?”

I looked at him blankly. Wait, what?

“I knew I was going to have to show you that it could work; that this was truly what I wanted. I also knew that that might not be enough on its own; that you might balk at staying in a marriage that began as a sham, so I drafted up those divorce papers.” He let out a long breath. “I don’t want a divorce. I just wanted to give you the option. If you only want to be in a marriage that has been real from second one, I’ll sign those bastard papers and then we’ll remarry in whatever way you want.”

I looked up at him, feeling like I’d been dealt a blow to the jaw. “You’re serious?” The question came out in a whisper.

“Do I ever joke?”

“But … you’d lose your trust fund if we divorced now.”

He cursed beneath his breath. “You’re more important to me than a trust fund, Vienna.” He seemed exasperated that I’d ever think differently. “There was another sheet of paper I was going to show you today.” He crossed to the desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a document of some sort. Returning to me, he held it out.

I carefully took it from him. It was a letter. A letter he’d received from a hospital. I quickly read it and frowned. “You … you’ve booked an appointment to have your vasectomy reversed?”

“You want kids, don’t you?”

And then the tears fell. They just poured right down my face. There was no holding them back.

Dane softly cursed again and caught my face with his hands. He thumbed away the tears. “This was not how I imagined this conversation would go. I didn’t think you’d be so shocked to hear I wanted you to stay. You heard the things I said to Owen yesterday. How could you then think I’d want a divorce?”

“I thought you were just playing the role of possessive husband.”

He rested his forehead against mine. “No, baby girl. For me, this has been real for a while now. How did you not see that? I took you on dates, I got you that damn cat, I sleep in the same room as you.”

“But never in your room. I thought that meant you were making it clear that it was just sex.”

He lifted his head, frowning. “You love the room I chose for you, so why would I ask you to move? If you want us to move into the master bedroom, we can. But I don’t think of it as mybedroom anymore. I go in there to dress—that’s it. It’s more like an oversized closet.”

I took a shaky breath, hoping to center myself and stop the tears from falling. Thinking back, the signs that he wanted the marriage to be real were all there—I just hadn’t read them right. Or maybe I’d been too scared to let myself believe they were signs of any sort, too scared to let myself hope.

Even now, despite how blunt and straightforward he was being, I found it hard to process that he was offering me the very thing I wanted most. Which was, quite simply, him. It didn’t matter to me that I married him as part of a deal we made, because it was that deal that brought us together. I doubted we’d have found our way to each other without it.

I licked my lips. “You’re certain you want this marriage to be real?” I needed to know he wouldn’t change his mind at a later date. It would absolutely crush me.

His eyes hardened. “It is real. You are my wife in every way that matters. If you need me to sign those papers and remarry you, though, I’ll do it. But let me be clear on something. If we divorce, it won’t dissolve anything between us—it’s just paperwork. You won’t go back to being Vienna Stratton. You won’t stop wearing my rings. You won’t move out of this house. Nothing will change. It’ll just mean we’ll have the ceremony all over again.”

I sniffed and shook my head. “I don’t need that. I don’t need another ceremony.”

“You don’t?”

“I kind of liked the one we had.” Plus, our Vegas ceremony held its own kind of importance. It was the first time that he’d kissed me. The kiss had been far from fake, and it blurred the line between fact and fiction.

I looked at the letter in my hand. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t want us to have kids if you don’t actually want them, Dane.” I placed the letter on a nearby shelf. “No child should ever feel unwanted.”

He smoothed his hands up my arms. “I woke up early a few weeks ago. You were flat on your back, asleep, and your camisole had ridden up. I looked at your bare stomach, and I found myself picturing it all round with my baby. I don’t know where the image came from—it just popped into my head. I can’t really describe what I felt. I just know that baby wouldn’t have been unwanted if it were real. I don’t know if I’d make a good parent, though. I don’t even know what does make a good parent. I’ll Google it.”

A chuckle bubbled up and burst out of me.

“I told you I could make you laugh if I wanted to,” he reminded me.

I nodded. “You did.”

“So, do I sign the papers or tear them up? Either way, you are mine, and you’ll stay mine,” he warned, his voice thick with ownership.

A pleasant chill skated down my spine. His possessiveness never failed to flick my switch.

A loving declaration would have been nice, but I wouldn’t have believed it. I did think he was capable of feeling the emotion, but his willingness to connect with others had been oppressed by his father. That bastard had forced the people most important to Dane—his own siblings—to cause him physical harm. If you didn’t properly bond with someone, it wouldn’t hurt emotionally when they caned you, would it?

His bond with his twin had survived that shit, but then Dane had lost Oliver; lost the one person who mattered; the one person who anchored him. And what had that taught an emotionally stunted eight-year-old Dane? That caring for others only led to pain. So he’d shut down, becoming so self-reliant and self-focused that it pushed others away.

And yet, he’d opened up his world to me little by little. He’d let himself trust me—so much so that he slept beside me at night. He’d let himself care for me, even when taking that risk must have been so hard. And he’d grown to feel secure enough in what we had that he’d gone a daunting step further and made the decision to build a life with me.

The whole thing absolutely fucking humbled me. I didn’t need the three little words people tossed around too lightly, too often. Not when the man in front of me had pushed past every self-protective measure he had to get to this point. Not when he stood here offering me all the things I wanted. That was far more profound than a declaration of undying love.

I inhaled deeply and replied, “Tear them up.”

“Be certain, Vienna. I won’t make this offer again—I’m too selfish for that. If you fully commit to me right now, I’ll hold you to that. I won’t let you go back on it.”

“I’m certain.” I tore up the single sheet I held and set the pieces on the shelf, right beside his hospital letter. “You can tear up the rest.”

His steely eyes glittered with triumph.

“But you need to get rid of the idea that I’m trapped in this marriage,” I quickly added. “Although I don’t want to leave you and I wouldn’t give up on us if we were experiencing a bad patch, I’m not someone who’d stay in an unhappy marriage, so you’d better pull your weight. And I will walk if you ever cheat—I’d lose all respect I had for you, and I wouldn’t respect myself if I stayed.”

He cocked his head. “Do you think I’d ever cheat?”

If for no other reason than it would make him feel like his adulterous father … “No. I don’t believe you’d cheapen me or yourself that way. Which is good for you, because I wouldn’t hesitate to scald your cock with boiling water if you ever strayed.”

Dane winced. “Vengeful. I like it.” He ate up the last bit of space between us. “You never have to worry that I’ll cheat on you, Vienna.” He dipped his head and kissed one side of my neck. “It would simply never happen.” He pressed a kiss to the other side of my neck. “You’re all I want. You’re all I’ll ever want.” He brushed his lips over mine. “Got it?”

“Got it.”

He hummed. “Good.”

I went to kiss him, but he delved one hand into my hair and wrapped the other around my throat, holding me still. I gasped and gripped the sides of his shirt. My pulse began to quicken as—that easily—a delicious, electric energy started to build and crackle in the air between us.

His gaze drifted over my face, tracing every line, curve, feature, freckle. “All mine,” he whispered.

I licked my lips when his eyes dropped to my mouth. But he didn’t swoop down and claim it as I’d expected. Instead, he dabbed a soft kiss to the corner of my eyelid. It was sweet, sure, but I wanted his mouth on mine.

I didn’t get it.

He breezed his lips over my eyelids and then began to whisper butterfly kisses along the sides of my face. Every touch was featherlight, even the nip to my jaw, awakening every nerve-ending and feeding the sexual tension that had snapped the air taut.

I sank into the moment, letting my body go soft and pliant against his. His low growl of approval tightened my nipples and made my blood thicken.

His cock, hardening fast, aggressively dug into my stomach. But he didn’t grind against me. Didn’t lay a demanding kiss on me. He hovered his mouth a mere inch above mine, stared deeply into my eyes, hiding nothing, seeing everything. Anticipation spiraled through me and wound me excruciatingly tight.

I sucked on his lower lip. He squeezed my throat and pulled back. Okay, I got the message. I was just supposed to take what he gave. But it didn’t piss me off, because there was no bossiness there. It was like he meant it as a gift. Like he was communicating something and didn’t want to be interrupted.

I parted my lips in invitation, half-expecting him to turn it down. He didn’t. He dipped his tongue inside and ran it along the inside of my upper lip, but then he pulled back again. I checked the urge to chase his mouth, knowing it would get me nowhere. As if to reward me for that, he gently sucked my tongue. First slow, then fast, then slow again, ramping up the intensity.

Then, finally, he drove his tongue into my mouth and glided it against my own. He didn’t rush or plunder. No, it was a slow-motion kiss. He lingered. Sampled. Relished. Savored. Treated my mouth like it was some kind of dessert that he wanted to slowly enjoy.

It was sensual. Electric. Magic. He made kissing a fucking art, subjecting me to a swirl of luscious sensation; sharpening my attention onto him. All I could feel was his mouth and hands. All I could taste was him. All I could smell was that intoxicating cologne he wore. Even my thoughts centered around him, freeing me of every worry. It felt like the world was spinning around me. Like he was the only thing standing still.

He roughly angled my head, letting me feel a nip of pain, and a full-body shiver skated over me. He didn’t then finally devour my mouth as I expected. His kiss was slow and wet and lazy, but it was by no means tame or easy. It vibrated with the same addictive dominance that it always did.

His mouth was so soft and warm and skilled as it ruled my own. My breaths turned into shallow pants, and I felt a flush sweep up my chest, neck, and face.

His grip on my throat remained firm and possessive. His thumb occasionally breezed up and down my neck, which seemed hypersensitive. God, I didn’t think my sensory awareness had ever been so acute. Everything felt enhanced. Every flick of his tongue, every graze of his teeth, every brush of his lips, every scrape of his blunt nails on my scalp.

I tried deepening the kiss, but the hand in my hair tightened enough to make me wince, warning me he was in control. I almost sobbed. My body was a mass of racing chemicals and pent up sexual frustration, hungry for more. No, I needed more.

He didn’t give it to me. He swiped his tongue over my lip, prolonging the torture. Making me wait for another kiss. Making me crave more.

A whole bunch of emotions swam through me. Anticipation. Pleasure. Excitement. Want. Need. I couldn’t take the teasing anymore. I couldn’t.

“Dane,” I rasped, my voice laced with desperation.

He growled and slammed his mouth down on mine, sinking his tongue inside. It was like tossing gunpowder on a naked flame. An atomic blast of raw need ignited us both.

He kissed me so hard and deep and hungrily I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t need to. He breathed for me. I breathed for him.

My mind and body felt drunk on sensation and the endorphins flooding me. My entire system went into maximum overdrive. I didn’t know how I’d ever come down from it.

We pulled and yanked at each other’s clothes, whipping them off piece by piece. We were both out of control. Both at the mercy of a viciously sexual need that demanded to be slaked.

Still eating at my mouth, he backed me into his desk. He swiped some things aside and then whirled me around. “Bend over.”

I complied, gasping as my breasts rested on the cool surface, and gripped the edges of the desk.

“That’s my girl.”

One finger plunged inside me and swirled around. My inner muscles clamped down, determined to keep it.

“Already so wet.” He slowly pumped his finger. “Four fucking years I imagined bending you over a desk—sometimes this one; sometimes the one at o-Verve. It’s only gotten worse since I made you mine. I’m supposed to be concentrating on work. Instead, I’m thinking about how hot your pussy looks when it has my dick buried in it.”

I jolted as his free hand came down sharply on my ass. “The fuck was that for?”

“Signing divorce papers; thinking of leaving me.” He curled his body over mine and spoke into my ear. “For that, you don’t get to make a sound until I tell you that you can.”

I gaped. “You can’t tell me to stay quiet.”

“Wrong. I own your mouth. If I tell you to keep it closed, you do it.”

“There’s no way I’ll—” I flinched as he slapped my ass again. “Ow. That one really hurt.”

“The next one will hurt worse, so be quiet and I won’t have to spank you again.” Straightening, he withdrew his finger and replaced it with the broad head of his cock. “Remember, not a sound.” He bunched my hair in his hand, snatched my head back, and slammed home.

The breath whooshed out of my lungs as I found myself stuffed full of every hard, thick inch of him. I could feel his dick throbbing against my inner walls; could feel every beat of his heart.

He groaned. “Love being in this pussy. Love filling it with my come.” He began to mercilessly hammer into me at a frenzied pace.

I clamped my mouth shut to hold back my cries. Every hard lunge of his cock hit me so deliciously deep. I tried throwing back my hips to meet his thrusts, but his fingers dug into one globe of my ass and held me still for his possession. All I could do was cling to his desk and enjoy the ride.

His cock sliced through me over and over, stretching and rasping against my hypersensitive inner walls. Dane’s grunts rang through the air, mingling with the sound of flesh smacking wet flesh.

He didn’t relax his death grip on my hair, but I liked it. Liked how he held me in place as he took what he wanted from me, as if my pleasure didn’t matter to him. Because I knew it did matter; knew he could make me come so hard I’d feel it in my teeth.

“That’s it, baby girl, stay nice and quiet while I fuck you,” he said, still driving hard and fast. “So good for me.” The note of pride in his voice danced over my skin.

Friction coiled low in my stomach, and my pussy kept on quaking around him. I squeezed my eyes shut, as if it would help me hold in the moans that clogged my throat. I was determined not to make a sound. Not because I was scared of being spanked again, but because I liked hearing pride in his tone.

I gripped the edges of the desk harder as my orgasm hovered close, ready to rush through me any moment now. My pussy tightened and superheated. I felt his cock thicken and pulse, and I knew he was just as close to the edge as I was.

“Let me hear you, baby girl. Come when you’re ready.”

I moaned, long and loud, and a growl rumbled out of him. He upped his pace, drilling his cock into me so hard it jolted the desk. The pleasure made me burn hotter and hotter, winding me as tight as a fucking rubber band. The tension just kept on building and intensifying. Then the band snapped.

White-hot pleasure zipped up my spine, tore a scream out of my throat, and made my pussy clamp down on his cock. I heard him curse, felt his cock swell even more. He roughly rammed his dick impossibly deep and exploded.

He released my hair, and I slumped onto his desk, gasping for air.

After a few moments, he pressed a kiss to the spot between my shoulder blades and pulled out of me. “Wait here.”

Like I had the energy to move. I was vaguely aware of him pottering around the private bathroom. He returned with a wet cloth and cleaned me up, as he often did.

He tapped my outer thigh. “Stand up for me.”

I straightened, still panting a little, and turned to face him.

He drew me close and curved a hand around the back of my neck. “You good?”

“Surprised I can feel my legs. You?”

“Oh, I’m good.” He softly sipped from my mouth. “We’ll have to make use of that desk again in the future.”

“I’m game. Though maybe we could skip the spanking next time.”

“You deserved it after signing those papers.” He stared into my eyes for a few moments. “I get why you didn’t ask yourself if the message could have been spoofed, Vienna. I’m not a good man. I’ve never tried to be one. I manipulate people often. But you’re the one person I’d never betray. If something happens that makes you question that, talk to me. Give me a chance to explain. Let me have the benefit of the doubt. Don’t declare you’re done and try to walk out on me.”

“If I’d known you wanted this relationship to be real, I wouldn’t have been so quick to believe you sent the message—I don’t think you’d be disloyal to someone you made a true commitment to. But I didn’t think I really meant anything to you.”

“Well, you were wrong. Now that you know that, take a mental step back if you see or hear something that puts me in a bad light. Question it. Ask yourself if it really makes sense. Talk to me about it.”

“I will. Promise.”

He gave my nape a little squeeze. “Good girl. Now give me that mouth again.”