Page 66 of Coerced Kiss
He works his jaw, considering me for a moment before continuing in a calmer tone. “I’m not trying to demean you. I’m trying to make you understand how vital it is that you convince the world you are devoted to me.”
“Don’t worry. I got that the first time.” I add with snide, “My life depends on it.”
“Good.” His smile is dark. “I’m glad we finally got that out of way.”
I yank on his hold. “Let me go.”
Instead of complying, he tightens his grip and reels me in, making me bump against his chest.
“My touch is not as disagreeable as you’d like to pretend,tesoro. I know what I did to your body.” Making it sound like a warning, he says, “Don’t worry. With a little more practice, you’ll perform beautifully.”
I jerk away, my face blazing with indignation.
This time, he lets me go. “In public, you’ll tolerate my touch. Whether you enjoy that or not is up to you. I can make the experience very pleasant. The choice is yours. However, your obedience is non-negotiable. If I tell you to do something, you will do so without reservations. You will execute my orders without arguing. You will give me your compliance in everything I demand, am I clear?”
“What if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll make you, but I hope that won’t be necessary.”
“How?”
“Anyway I have to. You can fight me on this, but I will bend you to my will. I know how to treat a woman, but I also know how to break people.”
I don’t doubt that for a minute.
“Do you understand?” he asks.
I give a tight nod.
“Next point—obedience starts with respect. Under no circumstances will you disrespect me. You already owe me an apology.”
“For what?” I cry out.
“For insulting me in the car.”
“For telling you to go to hell?” I exclaim.
He narrows his eyes. “I told you that you wouldn’t like the consequences. You can either apologize or bend over and pull up your dress.”
Despite the anger and fear, a spark of heat ignites in my belly when I recall the memory of what he did in my kitchen. It should repel me, and a part of it does, but a part of it also perversely excites me. Not that I want to repeat the experience. I won’t put myself at such risk willingly. To be honest, I’m more afraid of my reaction than the fact that he may really make it hurt this time. Still, giving him my apology when I did nothing wrong goes against every grain of my being.
My pride takes a huge knock when I open my mouth and say, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
He crosses his arms. “No, you shouldn’t have. We both agree on that.” His smile is evil. “But that’s an agreement, not an apology.”
Taking a deep breath to calm my flaring anger, I say with a hint of defiance I can’t hide, “I’m sorry.”
Approval flashes in his chilling blue eyes. “Apology accepted.” Then, switching from predatory to almost a robotic mode, he checks his watch. “Are you hungry?”
I blink, thoroughly confused by the radical swing in his mood.
“It’s past lunchtime,” he says. “I’ll fix you something to eat, and then you can rest. I have meetings in town, but I won’t be home late.”
“I can make myself something to eat.”
“I don’t mind.” He turns in the opposite direction and heads down the hallway. “Come. I can show you around the kitchen and where to find everything.”
His easy acceptance of my apology throws me off balance. Whenever I told my mom I was sorry for messing up when Iwas a child, she never simply let it slide. She held each of my mistakes against me indefinitely.