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“What sort of game?” She grabs onto the edge of the towel that’s clinging her to chest.

If she thinks I won’t simply tear it from her body, she’s playing games with herself. Or maybe that’s what she wants. She wants me to force her to submit, then she can keep pretending it’s not what she wanted.

That it’s something I thrust upon her.

Well, we aren’t playing that game anymore.

It’s time for a new one.

“The sort you’re going to want to win.” I gesture toward the towel. “You’re losing at the moment.”

Her throat works as she swallows hard. The skin surrounding the scab on her neck from the knife is bright pink. She’s been picking at it.

She has no idea how easily it is to spot her nervousness.

“I’m sorry about the phone—” I cut off her words with a raise of my hand.

“This isn’t about the phone.” At least not completely. “It’s about what we were talking about downstairs.”

“Obedience? You want to make me listen to you, is that it?” She’s gearing up for a fight, but I’m not going to give her one.

It would be easier to throw her over my knee and spankher until she promises to listen, promises she won’t disregard every fucking order I give her. But it won’t get us to the end result.

I don’t want some obedient little robot. I want her trust, her loyalty, and when I have those, she’ll give me the submission we both crave.

“I’m going to show you how good it can be when you do, and how bad it can be when you don’t.”

She shuffles back a step, still clinging to that damn towel like some sort of lifeline. It would be satisfying to rip it from her, and send her to spinning to her knees, but I hold steady.

“You’re still losing the game, Mira. Drop the towel.”

She moistens her lips. Her eyes flicker to the door. Does she really think she can run from me in my own home? Maybe hide in one of the guest bedrooms?

“Or are you too afraid?” It’s a cheap trick, needling her pride, but it does the job.

She raises her chin, a small gesture of defiance.

“What are the rules of the game?”

“Every time you do what you’re told, you’re rewarded.” I take a cautious step in her direction. “And every time you don’t, you’ll be punished.”

When I’m close enough, I bring my hand to her cheek, running the back of my knuckles over her jaw.

“Like I said, you want to win.” Dragging my touch downward, I settle my hand around her throat.

Her pulse gallops beneath my fingertips.

“Last chance, drop the towel.” Carefully, I squeeze her throat.

Not enough to cut off her air, but enough to warn her that I can.

Her pupils dilate, and her heart pounds a relentless drum solo beneath my fingertips. She untucks the towel and releases the material. It falls down her body, pooling at her feet.

“Good girl.” I capture her mouth beneath mine.

She softens as I deepen the kiss, brushing my tongue across hers, squeezing her throat just a little more. Her fingers tighten, fisting my shirt as if I’m the only thing keeping her grounded. It’s not just to keep me close, but to keep herself from spiraling into the abyss of surrender.

“Take off my belt,” I order after breaking the kiss.