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“No,” I say, though I am a bit. I try to extract myself from his grip, which as usual doesn’t work.

His arms move around me, securing me against him. “So then?” His left hand returns to where it was and grips me through my jeans.

I twist in his arms. The bruises have faded, but they’re not gone. “Don’t.”

“If you’re not still hurt, why are you squirming?”

Forcing myself to be still, I feel heat flushing my cheeks. “I’m not here for you. I came to meet my friend.”

He ignores my words, saying, “Let’s have a look.”

“A look at what?” My frown is serious as he takes a step back to, I guess, give me room to lower my jeans so he can have a peek at his dirty work. Not happening.

He turns me to face the back of one of the couches, then his hands are at my waist, unbuttoning my jeans and unzipping them. I suck in a breath and grab his forearms.

“Trick—no.”

His fingers splay over my belly, the tip of his pinkie pushing against the elastic of my underwear. My breath catches.

“About the word no, that’s not one to throw at me lightly.” His words are soft in my ear, his breath ruffling my hair and making it hard to concentrate. “Be a good girl, and show me what I asked to see.”

Aroused and a little terrified, I shudder. “We can’t,” I hiss.

“Can’t isn’t a great word either.” He turns me to face him and unbuckles his belt.

My hands fly to his. “No, please.”

“Not for that. Calm down.” He slides the black leather belt from the loops.

“Yesterday was the first day I could sit down. I can’t go through that again right now!”

“Hey,” he whispers.

Our eyes lock, and my heart hammers in my chest. He’s standing too close.

“What?”

“I’m not going to whip you. I’m taking control, so you don’t need to worry. I’m responsible for anything that happens up here.”

Blinking, I glance around helplessly. Whatishappening right now?

“It’s my bar. No one’s coming up, and if they tried they’d find the door locked. It’s just us.”

“I don’t understand. It’s still a public place.”

His small huff of breath is amused. “I could make this public,” he whispers. His lips brush across mine. “Could unlock the door. And push you to make enough noise so people come up to watch me fuck you and make you mine.”

I’m breathless and dizzy. He’s reckless and wild and maybe even serious. Is he drunk?

“Not even you would do that.”

His gaze cuts to the door and then back to my face, and I wonder. He turns me to face the couch again, then uses his belt to secure my upper arms behind me.

Sucking in a breath, I take a step forward but my legs bump against the couch. Then his hands slide my jeans and panties down to my knees.

“Oh, my God.”

His strong hand pushes against my upper back and sends my body jack-knifing over the back of couch, my hair spilling onto the seat cushions, my face pressed into the pillows along the back. His palms rest on my upturned ass, with its fading bruises, the ones he marked me with. He separates the globes and I can’t breathe. He’s looking between my legs where cool air warns that everything’s exposed.