Page 9 of Rayne

I let out a gasp when I feel the tip of the crop slide over my knee and up the inside of my leg.

"Stop that," I shoot out.

The crop pauses, lingering over my skin.

"Stop what?" Jett asks innocently.

"That."

"Imagine being blindfolded," he says, ignoring me. "Not only would you not have control, but you wouldn't be able to see it. You'd be relying completely on your senses—feeling it against your skin."

He lifts it away from my skin, holding my gaze. It emphasizes his point because my heart starts racing when I realize he could smack me with it at any second.

Hawk snorts behind him, and it's like ice cold water being poured over my body. I'm pulled from my trance, glaring at him over Jett's shoulder.

"She would never be game enough to let someone else have control," he says to his brother while looking at me.

"I could," I argue back. "With the right person."

He raises an eyebrow. "I doubt that. You wouldn't trust anyone enough to do it."

Smack.

I jump backwards into the wall, snapping my attention to Jett in horror as my skin tingles from the crop on the inside of my thigh.

"Don't fucking do that!"

"Do what?" he asks innocently.

Clenching my jaw, I consider my next move. There's only one obvious way out of this, and I jerk my knee up, aiming for anywhere on him.

Swiftly angling his body, my knee only grazes the outside of his leg. His hand swings out, catching my knee as he wraps his arm around my leg. I lose my balance, tipping to the side. Jett catches me, lifting me with ease as he flings me onto the mattress to break my fall.

I land on my stomach, and I hastily try to push myself up but I'm stopped by a hand on my back, forcing me back into the mattress hard.

"That wasn't very nice, sis. Now, you'll have to be punished."

Chapter 4

I thrash around on the mattress, pushing against the hand on my back that's pinning me down.

"Get off me," I growl, swinging my legs wildly around, hoping to connect with one of them.

Hawk walks around to the other side of the bed where my head is, leaning down to glare at me.

"You tried to hurt him."

I scoff at him incredulously. "He was hitting me with the crop."

"The crop doesn't hurt," Hawk points out. "However, what you intended to do would have caused significant pain and possible damage."

Stilling, I throw him an apologetic look. "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry."

I hope that's the end of it, but I'm sorely mistaken.

Hawk grabs my arms, pinning them against the mattress. Wide-eyed, I plead with him, memories of my teenage years coming back to me.

"It won't hurt—much," Jett says, one hand still on my back. "Words don't mean much. But I prefer an eye for an eye."

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