Page 88 of The Claiming

He pulls away and smiles into my eyes and whispers huskily, “Thank you. I’ll release your wrists now.”

His touch is light, almost reverent as he sets about unfastening the handcuffs, rubbing each wrist with his fingers and kissing the blood back into them.

I am astonished at his multiple personalities and can’t decide which one I prefer and once again he surprises me by tugging me to the floor and then swinging me into his arms, as he carries me into the bathroom like a baby.

A soft smile transforms his usual dark expression into a thing of great beauty. Heisbeautiful. His dark hair is slightly longer on top, just the way I like it. His eyes are dark and brooding and reflect his thoughts much better than his expression when he wants them to. When he doesn’t, they are cold, hooded and devoid of anything, disguising the complex individual they belong to.

His smile is rare, but when it breaks across his face, it transforms his usual surly features into a thing of great beauty. He is a complex individual with a complex personality and I’m aware I haven’t even touched the surface of what makes him who he is.

He lowers me gently into his claw-footed tub and the way my entire body burns with relief drags a smile onto my face.

I lean back in contentment as he applies soap to my tingling skin and whispers, “You are beautiful, Cassie. I could stare at you all day.”

I say nothing. What would my answer be to that, anyway? To be honest, I could lie in here all day and if this is what being his slave involves, sign me up for a longer term.

Occasionally, he bends down and kisses me softly, almost reverently, and I truly feel worshipped by him.

“Stay with me tonight.” He whispers in my ear and I shiver with excitement.

“Okay.” I smile into his eyes and as he strokes my face, he whispers, “Do you trust me, Cassie?”

“Hell no.” I chuckle softly, causing him to smirk.

“Good answer. You are right to have reservations.”

“You are a strange individual, Frankie.” I smile. “You hide this softer side well. I’m guessing it’s because of your past.”

His eyes darken as he sighs. “I’m hiding nothing. Most of the time, life has nothing good to offer me, nothing pure.”

“That’s sad.”

“It’s fact.” He exhales sharply. “My family business is brutal and requires a certain type of training to survive it.”

I consider my own upbringing and nod. “I get that. I’m guessing we have that in common.”

“Tell me about your life.”

He leans on the edge of the bath and stares at me with an intensity that should unnerve me, but it doesn’t.

“I live with close to fifty bikers in a steel clad compound in the middle of nowhere.”

If I thought that would shock him, I’m mistaken because he just nods, his eyes flickering with interest.

“My father is the president of the motorcycle club we live in. I was born there to a whore who trapped him.”

“That sucks.”

“It happens.” I shrug. “He’s an honorable man and turning his back on her—on me—wasn’t an option and when she turned up dead in a ditch, it probably did us both a favor.”

“That’s harsh.”

He doesn’t appear appalled by my lack of compassion or love for my birth mother, and I sigh. “I didn’t know her. My memories don’t run that far back. He is a good father, the best in fact, and when Ashton came into our life, he married her the next day.”

“That’s risky.” Frankie grins. “Is he always so impulsive?”

“Not at all.” I laugh, loving picturing my father as impulsive. “On the contrary, he plans everything, right down to the smallest detail. He leaves nothing to chance and I suppose he knew the first time he laid eyes on her that she was his.”

“I understand now.” Frankie’s eyes darken and he trails his fingers around my neck, causing me to shiver at the memory of what he did back in the bedroom. He had my life in his hands—literally and what appalls me most is I loved every second of it.

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