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“Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying…the way he looked at you. Other than pissed about you telling him no—they really don’t like that.”

I laugh now. “Yes. I’ve noticed that.”

“But what about you?”

“What about me? I told you; I’m done. There will be no more dating, no more looking for Mr. Right. I’m done. Going solo for at least a decade. Once I can trust myself not to be stupid, then maybe…mayyyybe…I’ll go on a date. This is just temporary. Just until this mess is over.”

She sighs. “That’s a horrible plan.”

“It’s a smart plan.”

The door to the bedroom opens, and Rurik is there, filling up all the space with his presence, his arrogance, and his frown when his eyes land on the cell phone in my hand.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Talking to Megan.”

“Hang up!” He grabs the phone from me and disconnects the call before I can stop him.

“Hey!”

“Your phone is being traced, tracked, and most likely bugged!” He fists thedevice.

I think he’d like to smash it to bits, but instead he slams it down on the dresser.

“You said you had stuff here so that wouldn’t happen!” I jerk a finger at him.

“Yes. But it’s not something that’s just in the air; it needs to be set up.” His lips pinch together again, and his nostrils flare a little with his heavy breathing. “I told you not to use your phone until I said it was okay.”

“Well, you took my burner phone,” I accuse.

His eyebrow lifts so high, I’m not sure it will ever come back down.

“Take off the towel.”

He shuts the door quietly.

“You should go.” The words have no weight to them. They get lost in the air.

“Take off the towel, Mira.”

“Why?” I already know. My ass clenches, already aware of how hot and sore it’s going to be in the next half hour.

“Because we’re going to play a game.”

The monster inside of me wants me to rip the towel off her body and throw her face down over my knee. It wants to spank her luscious ass until it’s as red as the juiciest tomato. Just like her ass. Plump and ripe.

But I don’t.

Instead, I stand, watching the indecision cross her expression. She wants to follow my order. I can see it simmering just below the surface of her defiance.

She can pretend to herself she hates being told what to do, that she despises the punishments I’ve meted out, but I see through all of that. Beneath the thin-plated armor she’s wrapped herself in is a woman strong enough to withstand a man like me but soft enough to enjoy the domination I offer.

But she doesn’t know it yet. She sees her submission to me as a weakness, and she’s desperately clinging to the notion that she’s made of steel. Whatever has put this defensive mechanism into play, I will sort it out.

I will find it and crush whatever villains from her past are haunting her present.