Page 45 of Lesson In Forgiveness

“Exactly. Obviously, she’s dangerous in her own right, but she respects you. She could’ve nailed you with that first shot,” Evander pointed out. “I don’t get the feeling she’s the kind to miss what she aims for.”

“Hmm.”

“You mentioned her father—she’s Jasper’s sister, right, which means Dominic was—”

“Yeah. I guess you learned about him from J?”

“Not much but enough to understand Tabitha a little better.” Checking his watch, the giant frowned slightly. “Callie will be going down for her nap about now. Give us an hour, then bring your hellcat. As long as she keeps her temper under control, I don’t see the harm in a friendly visit.”

Relief swamped Grit from head to toe. “Appreciate it. More than I can say.”

“She seems like a good woman, Grit. Traumatized and reactive, sure, but underneath that… I’m not going to tell you she’s a Little, but maybe try a pacifier when she gets in a mood. Sucking is self-soothing.”

“A pacifier isn’t the first thing that comes to mind for sucking.”

Evander’s grin flashed, stark white in his tanned, bearded face. “Takes a brave man to offer his dick to a woman with murder on the cards. That one has teeth and knows how to use them.”

By God, did she ever. She wasn’t afraid to, either. That ferocity was part of her allure—all that wild, ruthless, primal instinct carefully bound in chains to protect her softest side.

A man either slid beneath those chains to reach her fragile core, or he was met with the full and unapologetic force of her fury.

“She’s worth a bite or two,” was Grit’s solemn reply.

“Braver man than me, then. An hour, Grit. Make sure your girl wears something comfortable; Callie’s a pajama girl on weekends.”

“Thanks, Evander.”

“Anytime, Grit. Any damn time.” Chuckling to himself, Evander walked out, closing the door behind him quietly.

With one complication gone, Grit settled himself on the couch and waited for the second one to drag her poor, pink ass out of the bathroom. He doubted she’d come out swinging—the spanking hadn’t just knocked the breath from her, it had stripped her down to the bare essentials.

In his opinion, spanking was one of the best tools in his arsenal. It served as both punishment and reward, didn’t require anything but his hand, and was incredibly intimate. Paddles, crops, belts were all well and good, but he found they created a distance between him and his sub that a good, old fashioned hand-spanking lacked.

Skin to skin. Dominance commanding submission.

From the corner of his eye, Grit saw her shadow darken the bathroom doorway before she emerged, just as subdued as when she went in. He gave her his full attention, noting her face was clean. Tears were still shimmering in her reddened eyes, but they didn’t fall.

She padded toward him, each step slow and hesitant. Maybe she’d actually learned something from the spanking, he mused silently. Perhaps she understood now that the balance of power between them shifted easily, steered by his hand.

“Are you ready to apologize?” he demanded coolly.

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Tabitha started to sink down on her knees in front of him.

“No. Straddle me, Tabitha. I want to read your eyes. Consider it part of your punishment,” he told her when her shoulders sagged. “You can’t hide shit from me when I can see how that busy brain ticks.”

Obviously deeply unhappy, she clambered onto the couch to obey his command. Her butt perched uneasily on his thighs, her hands clasped together against her stomach, with her chin on her chest.

“Eyes, Tabitha. I won’t ask again.”

God, she took his breath away. Even though her eyes conveyed her misery, the blue listless and flat, she really was a stunning woman. The starkness of her hair made the color of her irises pop.

Grit waited, his palms pressed flat to the cushions. Petting her was far too tempting; she’d get that luxury once she identified her misbehavior, admitted and apologized for it. Comforting her now sent the wrong message, teaching her she could let her wild side run free and still be rewarded.

He wasn’t the kind of Dom who dictated every moment of his sub’s life, but he’d be damned if he allowed her to use his head as a practice target.

“I’m sorry,” she said, so quietly he strained to hear her. “What I did was reckless and inexcusable. I panicked when I woke up handcuffed to the bed, I felt trapped, and maybe…” She licked her lips nervously. “Maybe I overreacted. Just a smidge?”

“What are you asking me for?”

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