“That’s it? Where’s the rest of it?”

What followed hurt too much to relive. I’d been lucky, I supposed. I wasn’t raped, but there were only so many kicks to the stomach that a young body could sustain until infertility occurred.

I’d spent a week in hospital while my precious toddler had been looked after by an elderly woman who lived above us.

“Tell me. What are you thinking?” Fox growled.

A chill eased through my blood, helping me remain cool and unfeeling. “I’m clear from diseases, and you don’t need to worry about contraception.” My voice hardened. “I’m not going to sleep with you until I know your history, too. As part of my rules, I need to know you’re clean.”

His shoulders tightened and jaw ticked, but he nodded slowly. “I’m clean. You have nothing to fear from me.” Darkness shadowed his eyes for just a moment followed by a flippant hand gesture. “I’m taking sleeping with bastards for cash is a new thing for you?”

My mouth hung open. “There you go again. I thought we’d made progress—that’d I’d judged you too harshly, but nope. You’re still an asshole.” Swiping a hand through my tangled hair, I snapped, “I’ve already told you I’m not a whore, and I’m not answering anything that’s disrespectful. I promised I wouldn’t disrespect you, so don’t do it to me.”

His body rippled with energy, everything about him poised to attack. Slowly, he rolled his shoulders, dismissing the build-up as quickly as it’d come. “You’re right. At least we have the formalities out of the way.”

My legs itched to stand up and walk out the door. Everything about this agreement was wrong. But the bribery of two hundred thousand kept me glued to the chair like a puppet, and his mystery kept me from hating him completely.

And your desire for him makes you wet.

I shifted, feeling cheap.

He ran a forefinger over his bottom lip. The lighting in the room didn’t illuminate much, leaving me with the sensation of being cut off from everything. Alone in a private world with this scarred stranger.

“I’ll have Oscar arrange the first payment and send it to wherever you want, but if you leave without my permission you will owe me every cent.” The leather of the chair creaked as he sat higher. “Don’t expect a generous lover in me. I plan to take everything you have to give.” His voice came out low, husky, almost inaudible.

Nerves fluttered in my stomach. His eyes captured mine. “That’s hardly fair.”

He spanned his hands. “That’s the deal. I’m buying you for my pleasure. Don’t forget that.”

“How can I forget?” I muttered.

Fox sniffed at my flippant remark.

I said, “You won’t let me leave for a month, but you’ll let me use the phone. I need to call someone.”

His forehead furrowed. “One phone call.”

“One?”

I can’t believe this. It’s like being in jail.

“From now on, you have to ask permission to do anything. You’ve handed over your rights to me.” Fox smiled grimly. “Welcome to my world, dobycha.”

Goosebumps spread at the foreign word.

Sighing, I thought about what I’d agreed to. For someone who’d never had to answer to anyone her entire life, it would take a lot of getting used to.

“And the other fine print?” I asked.

He stood and came around the desk to face me, trespassing on my personal bubble. “You let me do what I want to you.”

I held up my hand, ready to cut him off, but he snapped, “Let me finish.”

“I have free reign over your body. You let me treat you like a possession, and I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Questions flew wild in my head. He was asking me to give up my freedom, to bow to him, to relinquish all thoughts of belonging to myself, and obey his every whim.

Two hundred thousand suddenly wasn’t enough.

The word ‘no’ danced on my tongue. He might intrigue me, seduce me, and offer a chance at saving my daughter, but a month was a very long time.

In a lightning move, Fox grabbed my arm and hauled me upright. I teetered on my stupid heels, cursing the pinching pain of blisters. My eyes came to his mouth, and I gulped as he licked his lips.

“Your first order is to put your hands behind your back.” His breath tickled my eyelashes, smelling faintly of chocolate and mint.

I frowned.

“Do it,” Fox demanded.

Slowly, I brought my arms behind my back and linked my fingers. The moment I’d locked them against the small of my back, he hooked his finger into the dip in my dress and dragged me forward. My chest collided with his—my breasts against his hard muscle. My stomach rose and fell, brushing against his chiselled one.

“Don’t unlock your fingers.” His voice acted like fuel to the fire already licking my core. I shivered as his fingers trailed from my hips up to my waist. The pads of his thumbs tickled the sides of my breasts as he worked his way upward.

Slowly. So, slowly. Softly. So, softly.

My vision darkened; I went lightheaded all thanks to the heat he invoked inside me—turning my craving into a lunatic obsession.

I needed his touch. I needed to be petted and pampered and adored. I’d never been a sexual creature, but now I understood why people hungered for it. Why the thought of being taken and worshiped had such maddening appeal.

Shamelessly, I felt wetness building between my legs.

Fox bowed his head, his eyes never leaving mine. Green to grey, vivid to colourless. My lips parted on their own accord; my breath grew shallow as my legs shook.

Inch by inch he came closer, bringing with him the scent of smoke and metal.

I tensed for a fast kiss. A hard kiss. But Fox held himself still, hovering over my mouth only a fraction away from touching. My lips tingled and ached; my tongue wanted to dart out and lick him.

If he was using my body against me, it was working.

A small noise sounded in his chest, and I looked harder into his eyes. Instead of raw passion there, I saw utter confusion. My heart stuttered and once again my protective instincts rose. He shouldn’t be confused. I would kiss him in that moment even if I had to do it for free.

I’d never know who crossed the last millimetre of distance, but I moaned the instant his lips touched mine. Our eyes snapped shut, and nothing else existed but taste.

I kept expecting him to break. To drag me closer and plunge his tongue into my mouth, but he did the opposite. With perfect pressure, he coaxed my lips apart and the very tip of his tongue entered my mouth. His taste intoxicated me, and I strained forward, rubbing my breasts against him.

He stiffened, but didn’t stop kissing me, keeping up the maddening softness, exploring deeper with a gentle tongue. My head swam as I forgot to breathe; my fingers loosened until my hands fell to my sides. All I could think about was touching him, dragging him closer, forcing him to be rough, to end his infuriatingly slow assault.

Something switched in him and his lips pressed harder. Confidence filled his touch and he dragged me closer, hips thrusting just enough for me to feel the hard heat in his slacks. I tipped my head, allowing him better access, wanting him to kiss me deeper.

But he didn’t take advantage.

Slow and soft and coaxing.

It was the best kiss I’d ever received, but also the worst. It sparked lust and need in every inch of me. My lips wanted more, my tongue wanted savagery. My skin wanted to bruise because he needed to touch me so badly.

All my thoughts disappeared as I nipped at his bottom lip. He flinched, but a second later he copied, his sharp canines piercing my oversensitive flesh.

I moaned.

I couldn’t take it.

My hands flew up and gripped his shirt. Yanking him toward me, fireworks whizzed in my fingertips; my heart galloped toward exploding with lust. I’d never been so drunk on someone before.

Then I landed flat on my back.

The crack of my skull jangled my teeth. The thick carpet did little to cushion me. My eyes flared wide and I grunted in pain. Fear, hot and terrible, swamped my lust in a dampening wave.

“Top rule. Unbreakable rule. Don’t. Ever. Touch. Me.” Fox kneeled on one knee beside my head, breathing hard. His hand noosed my throat, pressing my spine into the carpet. His eyes were cold and lifeless, looking like a hunter intent on blood.

I gasped, struggling to breathe. I couldn’t unfog my brain.

“Never touch me.” His hands tightened, crushing my windpipe.

He’s going to kill me.

Hot terror erupted and I scratched at his grip. Scratching, prying, trying to unlock his incredibly strong fingers. Clara flashed in my mind, bringing hot tears to my eyes.

He bent further, squeezing harder. “What did I just say?”

I thrashed, needing air. My eyes felt too big for my sockets; my ears roared with blood. I need to breathe!

My thoughts were scrambled, but one thought trumpeted: Don’t touch him.

Stop touching him!

It took all my strength to obey. Every instinct boycotted when I forced myself to let go—to allow him to willingly strangle me.

Dropping my hands to my sides, I locked my elbows, keeping them dead straight. I shuddered uncontrollably, battling the instinct to fight back.

Only once I’d gone completely still, with no threat of touching him, did he unlock his fingers and stand. The instant he let me go, I rolled onto my side and hacked and choked, dragging oxygen into greedy lungs.

He stood staring, his face black and terrifying.

I thought I knew what I agreed to, but I hadn’t. I hadn’t factored in his volatile mental state. He was more than just an asshole. He was unhinged—deranged—and every agreement we’d made seemed incredibly idiotic.

He groaned under his breath, sounding like a wounded animal before dragging hands over his face. He paced away, stalking from one end of the room to the other.

By the fifth or six lungful of air, I sat up. But I was too afraid to stand. I liked being down here, away from his murdering fingers.

Fox prowled, muttering under his breath. His eyes flashed from deadly to contrite to weary. Stopping behind his desk, he snarled, “I didn’t mean to do that.” His fists opened and closed with unspent energy. “You provoked me. At least now you know what happens. Don’t disobey me. Next time, I might not have the strength to stop.”

His mouth tightened into a grimace. Anger rolled off him, buffeting me across the small distance between us. My heart raced, and I couldn’t look away. He entrapped me with his stare, wreaking havoc on my emotions.

I flushed, dropping my gaze. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Nervously I climbed to my feet, kicking off the stupid heels to stand barefoot on the silky strands of the carpet. Better to run. Better to flee. “I didn’t mean to disobey.”

I wanted to curse him for hurting me rather than apologise, but his remorse was real. It echoed in the room, vibrating in his muscles. He watched me warily as if I’d run at any moment. It was his fault for kissing me so sweetly, so gently. For a man who wore violence as his true identity, my mind couldn’t come to terms with how softly he’d kissed me.

Running a shaky finger over my bottom lip, I tried to forget. Tried to ignore the awkwardness, the strange determination, and sweet eagerness that’d been on his tongue. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that it’d been his first kiss.

Testing, learning, figuring out how to do it.

My eyes widened, staring at Fox. The concept of him never kissing anyone seemed completely absurd. This male didn’t kiss. He plundered and took.

So why did I kiss a completely different man than the one standing in front of me?

Once again my heart popped with little bubbles of despair. The tenderness of a motherly instinct rose quickly. I wanted to tear through his inner turmoil and give him a person to confess to, lend an ear and nod in concern—to share his burden.

Because he was burdened. Heavily.

His gruffness and scar didn’t scare me. He spun a lie and the stench of untruths never worked on me.

Flashes of emotion appeared in his eyes.

My heart raced, bashing against my ribs. Taking a careful step forward, ignoring the bruising around my neck, I asked, “Are you alright?”

His eyes popped wide and he laughed. “You’re asking if I’m alright? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

I shrugged. “We all have triggers. I believe you when you said you didn’t mean to hurt me.”