One Dirty Night - Page 118

I merely bowed my head and waited.

He breathed hard, towering over me. His jeans tented; his nostrils flared. The room came alive with electricity.

Fear trickled down my spine that perhaps he still wouldn’t accept me. That he’d chased after me purely to tell me that his fear of tragedy was stronger than his desire for love, but then…in a heart-clenching, tummy-melting move, he stepped back, squared his shoulders, and growled, “Did you mean what you agreed to back at the club? That you want me and only me?”

I nodded. “Yes, Master.”

A flood of moisture.

A kick of lust.

“Do you accept that I might stumble, might struggle, might have days where I second-guess this commitment—not because I don’t love you, but because I’m so fucking terrified of losing you?”

“Yes, Master.”

Ducking, he pressed his fingers beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “And do you swear on everything holy that you won’t let me ruin this? Do you vow to me, here and now, that you won’t let me fuck this up?”

A tear rolled down my cheek. “I swear.”

“You swear what?”

“I swear, Master.”

His lips twitched. “Because if you fail. If you don’t do everything it takes to keep me yours, then…I won’t survive, Ella. You killed me the moment you stole my heart, and as long as you hold it tight…I’m trusting you not to let me die.”

I flung my arms around him.

Sobs caught in my throat.

“Always.” I kissed his neck, his cheeks, his lips. “Forever.”

“Well then.” He smirked the barest of smiles. “Seeing as I don’t have to worry about dying—now that my heart belongs to you—and you won’t dare die on me—because I need you to survive—I suppose there’s only one thing we need to do.”

I stilled and lowered back down onto my knees. “What’s that?”

He stood and crossed his arms.

A cloak of authority draped over his shoulders.

A mask of absolute control etched his handsome face. “For you to apologise.”

I shivered.

I waited.

I melted.

“You pushed me before I was ready, Ella. You’re about to pay the consequences of that choice. Stand up.”

Obeying, I smoothed down my dress and dared to meet his eyes. “I’m ready for my punishment…Master.”

He shuddered. His hand landed on his erection, squeezing it through his jeans. “Go into the kitchen and bring back a wooden spoon.”

My heart leaped. My eyebrows rose.

All manner of questions filled me. A spoon? Why a spoon? What did he have planned?

“Now,” he snapped.