Chapter 18

Vivian

I should protest and say I want to stay here. But I can't. I don't want to face Felix again today, and I don't have anywhere else to go. I could stay with Zoey, but I don't want to impose on her. Which leaves me with… Q's place, as the most logical place to move into.

"This doesn't mean anything," I whisper.

"It means everything." He smirks.

When I squirm in protest, he tightens his arms about me. "Relax, Raven. You need a place to stay as you've, no doubt, concluded, and I have more than enough space for the both of us. Besides, you"re going to marry me and move in with me, so why delay the inevitable?"

I slap at his chest, not caring when he winces. "Here I was thinking, perhaps, you're not all ego?—"

"But I am." He shrugs.

"—you say something that confirms you're the most obnoxious man I've ever met."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He pulls open the door, despite the fact that he's also carrying me, maneuvers us both through the doorway, then shuts it behind him, all without losing hold on me. Is there no end to this man's talents?

I feel his chest planes flex and the muscles of his hard stomach coil as he descends the flight of steps to the main door. I wrap my arm about his neck and allow myself to admire the beauty of his visage from this angle. Not to mention, that musculature of his shoulders and the tendons of his neck, which stand out in relief. Every inch of this man invites me to touch, feel, lick, cuddle, and trace the dips and valleys of his physique.

"Why do you have to be so handsome?" I scowl.

"I was born this way."

For a second, I'm taken aback, then I burst out laughing. "I can"t believe you said that."

He grins. "It may sound corny, but it's the truth." He hitches a shoulder. "I am charismatic enough to get my way, and it's not something I try to hide."

He carries me out the main door of my apartment building and places me in the passenger seat of his car, before dropping my handbag at my feet. Seriously, he remembered to grab my bag—he gets brownie points for that.

He comes around the car and slides into the driver's seat.

"You're so bossy and take charge and confident and self-assured and—" I search my mind for the right word and fail. I settle for, "I've never met anyone like you. It's overwhelming--"

"And you like it."

"I do." I nod. "More than I'd have thought possible. When you order me to do something, I shouldn't want to obey right away, but?—"

"You want to."

I scowl at him. "Am I that easy to read?"

He smiles, and when he turns to me, there's a softness around his eyes. "Only for me. And only because you're submissive." He turns to look at me. "You're my submissive."

The possessiveness in his voice makes me shiver. His words resonate with that hidden part of me—the one only he seems to awaken. I nod slowly. "I am." It's a relief to have it out in the open. The tension I wasn't aware of holding in my muscles fades.

His eyebrows draw down. "When we get married, there'll be rules."

I don't bother pointing out that the ‘when' was in error. What"s the point? He"d ignore it anyway. My curiosity is piqued enough to ask, "What kind of rules?"

"These rules are for your safety. So you know what you're getting into with me."

"Okay?" I'm still not sure what he's talking about.

"I will reward you for being good. I will own your every orgasm. You cannot come without my permission. It's up to my discretion when I allow you to climax. Your body is mine. Your cunt is mine. All of your holes exist for my pleasure. Do you understand?"

My head reels from the impact his words. My nipples are so tight, I'm sure they'll slice through my shirt. My cheeks are flushed, my breathing ragged. His words do not leave anything to the imagination—they never do—and it should come across as obscene, but the way he delivered them—without emotion, in a cold, clinical manner like a doctor laying down instructions that brook no argument—is so very arousing. And so puzzling. None of the passion-drenched poetry I've memorized, or the spicy romance novels I've read, or the porn videos have prepared me for the reality of this confident man telling me how he wants to possess me. And I find myself nodding in agreement.

"Do you, Raven?" he asks in a voice that's impatient.

"Yes." I duck my head.

"I didn't hear that."

"Yes." I jut out my chin. "I understand."

"If I were to bend you over the hood of the car and take your pussy, what would you say?"

Oh my god! My belly trembles. My toes curl. I'm so turned on I can barely choke out, "yes. I'd say, yes."

"Yes, sir," he prompts me.

"Yes sir," I whisper.

"Good girl." There's approval in his tone which elicits a fresh burst of arousal between my legs. There's a touch of relief in his eyes, which confuses me. Did he think I would say no? Doesn"t he know, I can't say no to him. Does he know I trust him not to hurt me? Can he tell I know it's inevitable that I"ll marry him, even though I haven't said it aloud?

He searches my features, then nods, as if satisfied with whatever he sees. Then he eases the vehicle onto the road.

"Wait, what about my clothes and my stuff I was packing?"

"I'll have it sent to my place."

"Oh." I suppose that saves me the effort of doing it. Besides, I don't want to head back to that apartment and risk running into Felix again. So I nod, then reach for my handbag—and pulling out the key to the apartment, hold it out to him.

He looks at it then nods toward his jeans pocket. "Slip it in, will you?"

I hesitate, then slowly reach over the center console between the seats. He arches up his hips, not that it helps. His thigh muscles stretch the fabric of his jeans, so I have to struggle to slip the key inside the pocket. The whole time, I'm aware of the bulge between his legs. My throat goes dry. I tear my gaze away from his package and sink back into my seat.

"Seatbelt," he reminds me.

I comply and strap myself in as he joins the stream of traffic on the highway. We drive for half-an-hour in a silence that's companionable. My eyes are drooping by the time he turns off onto a smaller road. We're entering Primrose Hill; I recognize it by the street signs. Then he's driving up to a townhouse at the end of a street. It's set in a cul-de-sac, and when he switches off the engine, silence fills the space. Before I can open my door, he's out of the car. He comes around, opens my door for me, then once more hauls me into his arms.

"I can walk," I protest.

"Humor me."

He heads for the doorway to a Victorian style building. It's typical of the other houses on the street. There's greenery everywhere, manicured lawns, cars parked in front of the other houses. Behind the house I can see the rise of Primrose Hill in the distance. He keys in a password into the keypad set into the frame of the door. The latch releases, and he shoulders his way through. I've been here before, but it looks different without the tequila coloring my vision. He heads through a living room, past doors that lead out to a conservatory, and toward a staircase. "Can you give me the grand tour this time?"

"When you're awake."

"I am not ready to slee—" I yawn so loudly, my jaw cracks. Damn him. It must be the suggestion of sleep that's making me feel so drowsy. He heads up the stairs, then across a landing and into a room.

I take in the super-king-sized bed, and beyond it, a door that must lead to the ensuite. There's another double door next to it which must be the closet. There's a fireplace opposite the bed. In front of it are two armchairs. On either side of the fireplace are windows, beyond which I can see the rolling slope of Primrose Hill. On the wall next to the door through which we entered are bookshelves. They are filled from floor to ceiling with books, with one of those wonderful rolling ladders to reach the top. I am too far away to make out the lettering on the spines, but the books look well-thumbed. Unlike Felix, who hated to read.

The most overriding thought was that I needed to save money. Money Quentin has. But that's not the reason I'm allowing myself to consider his proposal.

It"s the fact that I feel safe with him. That I've gone from not knowing him to trusting him, in very little time. I like his depth, how his experience has molded him. The hurt he carries at his core from whatever he saw when he was a Marine, his sticking to his duty, despite knowing he'd have to deal with the consequences, and not backing down from owning it. The regret he has about the impact of his actions on Ryot... Even the fact that he asked Felix to apologize for disregarding me... All of it paints the picture of a man who's complex and unique and very sexy.

And I can"t deny that I love how he worships my body. How he can bring me to orgasm. Marrying him is no hardship.

So tell him now. Tell him yes. Tell him you've accepted his offer.

I open my mouth to say, "I'll marry you," and end up yawning again.

He places me on the bed, and I push my cheek into the pillow. "You should get some rest," he says as he pulls the duvet up to my chin.

"We need to talk," my voice is slurred.

"And we will, when you wake up. You've had a long day. Sleep well."

My eyelids flutter down. I sense a touch on my forehead. Did he kiss me? Sleep claims me before I can answer the question.

The next time I open my eyes, sunlight filters in through the windowpanes. I am on my side and facing him.

He's asleep next to me. The covers are pulled up to his waist, and his chest is bare. The tattoo of the beating heart dripping blood feels so lifelike. As for those triangular tattoos framing his torso? They feel lethal, like they could cut into me if I touched them. His dog tags rest in the crevice dividing his pectoral muscles. I follow the path down to the hair that disappears under the covers.

My fingers tingle. I want to reach out and follow that happy trail to where the covers tent over his crotch. A thousand little sparks flare to life under my skin. The valley between my thighs grows damp. All the moisture in my mouth seems to have been pulled down to the flesh between my legs. Something causes me to raise my gaze, and I find his eyes are open. He looks at me steadily, and those little sparks grow brighter. My belly flip-flops. The pulse at his temples picks up speed. He's as affected by my nearness as I am by his. I begin to inch closer when his phone begins to vibrate.