Page 46

“You could have drowned!” he yelled.

He was right, of course. She shouldn’t have run. She might have been at sea for two weeks, but the middle of the oceanwasn’t the best place for swimming lessons. Pride wouldn’t let her admit that to him. Instead, she shrugged a shoulder and said, “It’s not that big of a deal,” going so far as to even roll her eyes.

What was she doing? Was this really the time to push her limits and test him? She knew the answer to that the second she chanced a look at his face.

What are you standing there like a dummy for? RUN!

For once, that voice in her head had a good idea, but before she could act on it, his hand wrapped around her hand like a vice. He stalked straight to the bed and shoved his left foot between the mattress and the wooden platform it covered. Then in one smooth motion, he lifted her and flipped her over his knee. She clawed for the mattress, but it was just out of her reach.

There was no need for her to worry, though. Boone thoughtfully tilted her forward, putting her hands close enough to grab the covers. Unfortunately, that put her butt pointing straight to the ceiling.

In one swift motion, he stripped her bikini bottoms down to her ankles and brought his hand down smack in the middle of her bottom. He continued the rhythm of hard, fast swats, covering every square inch of her bottom.

How was it that every time he spanked her, the pain of each smack shocked her? You’d think a girl would remember something like that and learn some self-control. The pain was something she should never, ever forget.

She’d sworn the last time he spanked her that his hand was made of solid wood. She’d been wrong. Wood was soft compared to this. His hand must be made of iron. Hot, sizzling, scalding iron from which there was no escape.

She tried.

She clamped her lips between her teeth, determined not to make a sound. Yeah, that lasted about thirty seconds. In record time, she was howling like a banshee. The fire he lit in her bottom had to be on the verge of melting the skin clean away.

All too soon, she added motion to her cries of distress. She couldn’t have stopped her hand from reaching back to prevent his palm from smacking her poor, aching rear.

Fortunately, she succeeded in hindering his efforts to further raise the temperature of her bottom. Unfortunately, her success was short-lived when he merely shifted his target from her backside to her heretofore untouched thighs.

She only thought she’d caterwauled before. The backs of her thighs were soon burning as hotly as her bottom. She kicked her legs in a futile attempt to slow his hand. If she’d been in the ocean, she’d have moved faster than the ship.

Releasing screeches that would make an owl jealous, she did the only thing she could and brought her feet up to protect her thighs.

“Hand by your side, toes on the mattress,” he commanded.

“Are you crazy?” That was probably not the wisest response.

Without so much as a pause, he grabbed her wrist and, wrapping his arm around her to make sure she didn’t fall, held it captive at her waist. But that wasn’t the worst part.

His other hand slid between them and the distinctive jangle of a belt buckle being unfastened had her struggling to free herself. How he managed to double his belt over and wrap it around his hand until it was the length he wanted, she had no idea.

“No!” she wailed. At least she did until he brought the leather down on her already burning rear end.

Not wood. Not iron. Leather. Leather was the worst pain she’d ever felt when it bit into her hind quarters. Her wails lostthe coherence of words, and he brought it down over and again on her poor bottom.

And the sounds, thewhooshof the strap coming down and thethwumpof it smacking against her butt. The fire was everywhere. It lit her skin and then sank deep into her muscles.

Giving up, she collapsed over his knee and sobbed. “Please! I’m so sorry! You’re right. I shouldn’t have run. I’m sorry!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, he threw the belt to the floor. She lay draped across his knee, sobbing. Her tears fell, making dark, staining circles on the silk comforter.

He rubbed the small of her back and let her cry. Eventually, her tears slowed, and her sobs devolved into hitched breaths. He lifted her from his knee and carried her to the sofa. Sitting, he helped her straddle his lap.

She leaned into his chest, relaxing into the soothing motion of his hand rubbing circles on her back. Once she had calmed, he said, “Look at Daddy, Bluebell.”

She forced herself to comply.

“Do you have any idea how close you came to going over the side of the railing when you took off like that?”

She shook her head. She’d been focused on escape. Her proximity to the guardrail was the last thing on her mind.

“The surface temperature of the water here is around thirty-five degrees. Add to that the cross pattern of the waves, and you would have been unable to stay above water for more than ten to fifteen minutes. When you almost went overboard, I lost ten years off my life. I know it’s fast. I know we’ve only known each other for weeks. But I can’t lose you, Bluebell. It would kill me.”