Page 58 of Start With A Slap

“Car’s waiting at the stairs, love. Let me carry you up.”

“I can walk.”

“Not barefoot, you can’t. We’re going to my flat, not the hospital.”

“Your flat,” she repeated quietly. It wasn’t a refusal.

“That’s right.” He picked her up. “I’m not done with you.”

Pliant and relaxed in his arms, she only sighed.

He’d blissed her into submission.

CHAPTER 18

Submission

As the car snaked through the Left Bank,rain sheeting its foggy windows, the back seat was their sanctuary. There in the quiet dark, time stopped — and Ivy carried on with Sever as if she’d been granted dream immunity. Freeing herself from guilt, fear and morality, she transformed into pure, aching, beautiful id.

Like a deep-sea siren, she moved in euphoric half time, multicolored lights gliding over her form. She reeled at his teasing caresses, nuzzled into his neck, wordlessly cooed for more, but he’d made up his mind: she’d be getting only the royal treatment from now on. No more half-naked wrestling matches; no more quickies — no morenothingbut the total worship she deserved.

Tonight, anyway.

Her shoulder felt cool and smooth as a fresh-picked plum on his lips. Her neck tasted of salt and perfume. Her hair held the scent of lilacs and rain. He was nearly moved to tears.

To combat any such indiscretion, he growled in her ear.

With a plaintive whine, she took his head in her hands and licked his tongue, riding his clothed erection all the way to his flat.

When they arrived, Sever opened Ivy’s door and found her shrouded in his suit jacket, brow knit over wish-it-all-away closed eyes.

Not very encouraging. “Love?”

“That’s not my name.”

He sighed, frustrated. Five seconds apart and she was on lockdown again. Lucky he’d arranged for his staff to stay out of sight until morning; last thing she needed was a reality check in the form of an audience. And the last thingheneeded was to keep standing in this sodding rain puddle. “Ivy.”

She didn’t budge.

“Come inside, Ivy.” Holding his umbrella, he offered a hand. “Please?”

She murmured something too low for him to hear, so he leaned in.

“Make me,” she said into his ear.

A brief smile, and he quickly summoned his forceful face. If that’s all it took to win him the round, yeah, he’d play it her way.

“You’re coming with me.” He slung her over his shoulder but caught himself gently covering her exposed bits. “Now.”

She didn’t fight, only said, “I’m not staying the night. I can’t.”

As if that would somehow make it less of a sin? “Actually, youcan, and you’re staying as long as it takes.”

A fresh logburned in the master bedroom’s fireplace. Laid out bedside were a slew of provisions as per his instructions: chilledchampagne, ice water, cigarettes, mints, the works — and on the pillows, pink rose petals were strewn.

Thank hell his magic calculator won out. Arriving home solo would have been depressing.

“Wait,” she said as he put her down on the petals. “I’m filthy and wet.”

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