Page 30 of Punish Me, Daddy

“I’m not going to apologize for being smarter than your bookies,” I retorted, holding his stare. “And I’m not going to stand here and let you threaten me like I’m some pawn in your little testosterone-fueled underground fantasy.”

“You’re not a pawn, Sloane.” His voice dropped an octave. “That’s the problem.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

“You’re clever. Strategic. Dangerous in your own way.” He tilted his head, his gaze dragging over my sleep shirt and my bare legs. “But you’re still reckless, playing games in my world like there won’t be consequences.”

His hand lifted and he dragged the back of his knuckles down the wall beside my head, not touching me, but close enough that I felt it. Every hair on my body stood on end and I had trouble pulling in a breath.

“Youdoknow what happens to girls who cause problems in my world, don’t you?” he growled, his voice like gravel.

I swallowed hard.

“Let me guess,” I answer, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “They get spanked.”

His smile was all teeth now.

“No. The ones who get spanked?” His voice was velvet-wrapped steel. “They’re theluckyones.”

Something shuddered deep inside me. My whole body went rigid. I lifted my chin one more time and glared at him like I wasn’t already losing traction. I tried to stand my ground.

“You don’t scare me,” I whispered.

His eyes burned into mine for a long moment. And then he laughed, low, dark, and quiet.

“You should be scared, Sloane,” he replied. “Because I don’t bluff.”

He took a step forward, and my breath stumbled in my throat.

Shit.

I slipped out from beneath him, instincts flaring like warning bells. It wasn’t fear, not really, just that tight feeling in my chest that saysthis is a very big man and you just pissed him off.

I retreated into the kitchen, trying to collect myself, trying to pretend I wasn’t flustered and barefoot and wearing a pair of shorts that barely covered my ass.

The ass he had already threatened to spank…

He followed.

Of course he did.

Slow. Purposeful. Like he already owned the ground between us, and he was just giving me time to realize that too.

I reached the far side of the kitchen island and stopped, one hand on the counter, the other clenched into a fist at my side, trying to hold my expression together. I couldn’t let him see that I was rattled.

But my voice came out thinner than I liked.

“What do you want?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Just watched me for a moment with those ice-blue eyes—quiet and inscrutable—until I swore that I could feel my heartbeat in my fucking teeth. My knees wobbled just a little. Not enough to be obvious, but enough for him to notice.

His mouth twitched, like he was amused by that.

“I know what you did. I know how much you made. I know how you did it. What I don’t know,” he said, stepping closer, voice lowering, “iswho helped you.”

Stopping on the other side of the island, he stared at me. Close enough now that I felt the heat of him across the slab of cool marble between us.

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