“I’m doing it again,” Beck muttered as he scrambled to get his
 
 weight off his wife. He was pinning her down against the cold, hard
 
 floor without even a blanket to warm her. His hands shook as he
 
 pushed himself up. He got off her and sat back.
 
 “What’s wrong, Beck?” She sounded soft and vulnerable.
 
 She didn’t just sound vulnerable, Beck told himself sternly. She
 
 was vulnerable.
 
 “Beck?” He heard the uncertainty in her voice as he shoved his
 
 hands through his hair and desperately attempted to get himself under
 
 control.
 
 “Everything is fine, Meg,” he managed. He took a deep breath and
 
 banished his own needs to the Hell plane. “Why don’t you go to bed?
 
 You can sleep with Cian.”
 
 She got to her knees. The look on her face quickly turned to
 
 indignation. Her hands fisted in the fabric of the shirt she was
 
 wearing. “I don’t want to sleep with Cian. I want to sleep with my
 
 husband.”
 
 “He is your husband,” Beck pointed out harshly. And he won’t
 
 hurt you.
 
 “This is ridiculous.” Meg huffed as she straightened her clothes
 
 and leaned toward him. “I want you, Beck. I want all of you. I want
 
 the real you. I don’t want you to politely ask if you can make love to
 
 me. Here’s the deal—I’m giving you permission. Take me. Bend me
 
 over, turn me around, spank my ass until it’s red. As long as you fuck
 
 Bound
 
 125
 
 me afterward, I’ll be happy. I won’t break, Beck. I’ll love it. I’m a
 
 sub. I want you to take control during sex. You don’t have any trouble
 
 taking control the rest of the time. Why can’t you do it in the one
 
 place where it’s bound to please me? And speaking of the word