Page 19 of Burned

When he touches me, every nerve ending is bright and reckless, feeling the heat of his skin, inhaling the clean scent of him.

It makes me remember the first night, when I told myself one night would change everything.

I had no idea how right I was. I almost laugh.

Lucian kicks open the bedroom door and carries me inside.

We’ve taken the upstairs bedroom, giving Cass and Ryan the main floor.

Red Shutters is nothing like his apartment in the city. No sleek marble. No glass.

No steel. This room has wood beams, thick quilts, a stone fireplace, and windows overlooking trees that hide more weapons than birds.

Warmer. Different.

Lucian doesn’t put me on the bed.

He sets me on my feet in the middle of the room, then steps back. He stands there, looking at me with his dark eyes and practiced restraint, and suddenly there is nowhere to go.

The silence stretches.

I lift my chin. “Are we staring each other to death, then?”

His mouth twitches. Barely. His voice rumbles. “Coat off.”

My stomach dips.

That voice is the one that makes me feel the floor beneath my feet and the heat between my thighs. The one that tells the loudest, messiest parts of my mind to quiet because he has taken command.

I hate how much I sometimes need that. I hate even more that he knows. Shame, shame, shame.

Weak woman.

Trying to reclaim a sliver of control, I cross my arms. “Ask nicely.”

His gaze drops to my mouth. “No.”

A spark lights in my belly. “No?”

“No. You crossed the boundary after I told you not to.” He stares through me, his silent promise heavy between us, crackling the air with heat.

Lucian removes his coat and lays it over the chair near the fireplace. Slow.

Controlled. Every movement is deliberate. He rolls his shoulders once, as if easing tension that has settled too deep to move.

Then he looks at me. “I’ll answer your questions.”

I narrow my eyes. “Before or after you punish me?”

His eyes darken. “After. Then, during.”

My breath catches before I can stop it, but he notices everything, even the smallest hitch. The tiniest tremor. The shameful littleways my body betrays me before I have a chance to gather myself into pride.

He plans on punishing me twice.

He steps toward me. “Safe word,” he says.

My stomach flips. The mention of a safe word makes me cringe. They’re silly. I’ll take everything he can give me.