Page 53 of Devious Truth

Approval dances across his face. The darkness lingers, but there’s a lightness to it now.

I’m safe here, in the shadow of his dominance.

“Good girl.” It comes out in a low growl, yet it caresses me like the finest silk. “Now we need to address your misdeeds, don’t we?”

I’m speechless. Or rather, my brain has fried.

“Answer when I ask a question.” His grip tightens on my chin, and he shoves my head back until I’m having to look down my nose to keep my eyes on him.

“Yes.” It comes out meek, so I try again. “Yes, sir.”

Ivan’s always been intense, but the fire in his gaze when I say the words he wants steals my breath.

My brain skitters as the connections begin firing again. “No, wait.”

What am I saying? This is Ivan Volkov. Addressing misdeeds could mean anything.

“Wait.” I yank away from him, stepping back.

Unfortunately, my room is a shoebox and all I do is get myself backed into a wall with no escape. He’s blocking the exit to my left, and to the right is nothing but a closet.

“No? You don’t think you deserve to be punished?” He tilts his head, like he’s trying to understand me.

I’m doing the same.

One moment, I’m swept away in his current, and the next I’m free falling over a cliff. How can I trust myself when the sound of his voice can annihilate me so easily?

“No. I mean, I’m sorry I lied; I shouldn’t have. But no, you don’t get to punish me, Ivan.”

There. Firm. Reasonable.

Logical sense has returned.

He runs his tongue over his lips, deep in thought. Maybe he’s unsure how to proceed with me. Maybe he’ll give up and finally leave me alone.

The idea of him turning his back on me makes my stomach hurt. A burning ache fills my chest when I imagine him stalking out of my apartment, giving up on me.

He shucks out of his suit jacket, folds it in half, and drapes it over the pillows as though he plans to stay awhile.

With his attention focused on me, he opens the cuffs of his sleeves. He drops the gold cufflinks onto my tiny bedside table, their polished shine at odds with the inelegance of my room.

My mouth goes dry as he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, flexing his forearms with quiet authority. His demeanor shifts—calm, final, impenetrable.

“Ivan—”

He cuts off my objection with a small shake of his head, and I know.

There will be no more discussion. No more questions. Only control. Dominance.

“I’m not going to let you…”

He smirks when he catches me eyeing my bedroom door.

“Do you want to try to and run? I’ll catch you before you get to the door. And when I do, I’ll take off my belt.”

That shouldn’t make my insides melt the way it does. Obviously, I’m broken.

It’s only five steps to the door. But Goliath stands in my way. And I’m all out of rocks.

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