Page 126 of The Christmas Trap

I look at him with disappointment. “What are you afraid of, Brody?”

“I'm afraid of losing you!”

I place the document back on the table, then close the distance to him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He rises to his feet, slowly.

“You better believe, you’re not. I have you. I’m not letting you go.”

The possessiveness in his voice lights tiny fires under my skin. I can feel the intense emotions rolling off of him, and my knees tremble.

I tilt my head back, and further back, to meet his eyes. And the way they burn into me? I flinch.

His muscles vibrate with barely contained emotion, a storm trembling beneath his skin. For the first time since I met him, unease prickles down my spine.

I’ve always known there were passions simmering beneath that calm, controlled exterior; but provoking him and watching them claw their way to the surface feels like standing at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, hearing the first ominous rumbles before it explodes.

I take a step back, and another. He doesn’t move. But he watches me carefully. I get the sense I’m a rabbit, and he’s the big bad wolf who’s been provoked.

"You’re my wife, am I right?"

"Well, duh." I wave my left hand with the rings on my finger, in what I hope is a casual gesture. Too bad, my fingers tremble.

"Excellent." A smile I'd categorize as evil tugs at his lips. "And you liked everything I did to you so far."

"Meaning?"

The animal part of my brain tells me I need to buy time here while I figure out an escape route. Escape from what, I don’t know. But whatever he’s thinking and planning, it's no good.

Which means, I'm going to love it.

“The tying you to my bed and fucking you… Using the vibrator on you… Taking your virgin back hole… You liked all of it, yes?"

I flush to the roots of my hair. Not because I’m a prude, but because hearing him describe what he did to me in that dark, growly voice recalls all the sensations that coursed through me when he performed those things on me.

A strangled sound escapes me, but it must satisfy him, for he nods.

"Good. And you’re open to exploring more of your kinky side?"

God help me, I am.I manage to nod again.

His expression softens. "There’s no shame in it."

"I’m not ashamed." I pout.

"Good." He rumbles. "Take off your clothes, wife."

I’m never gonna get used to this man calling me 'wife' either. It shouldn’t sound so erotic, but coming from him, it’s everything.

"Now," he snaps.

Oops, okay then. I hurry to obey him and strip off my clothes.

Suddenly, I’m naked in the center of the living room, with the world outside bathed in snow. In a chalet, in the middle of the most beautiful part of the country. On Christmas morning. What even is my life?

He prowls forward, then slowly circles around me. I feel his eyes on every dip and curve and hollow of my body. By the time he stops in front of me again, my nipples have pebbled, my thighs tremble, and I’m positive fat drops of cum have slid down my inner thigh. I manage to stay still. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of finding out how turned on I am.

He taps his chin. "I know what I want for my Christmas gift."