Retribution Read Online Free PDF Page B

romantic lover, this wasn’t a date, and he wasn’t going to whisper endearments in my ear as we made love. He’d whittled away my guard, making me forget how he could turn on me in an instant. Like a rabid dog.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, adverting my gaze.
    He forced my chin up, though his touch was more gentle than usual. “There are things about my past you don’t need to know about. I don’t want you to think you can’t talk to me, or ask whatever is on your mind, but when I tell you to drop something, I mean it. Understand?”
    I nodded. Obviously, I’d pushed too far. If he wanted to dish out punishment now, I deserved it. In the back of my mind, I realized how skewed that notion was, but there it was.
    The next hour passed in uncomfortable silence, and I couldn’t help but wonder about his past, about the woman who’d stolen his heart. What had happened to her? Did he hold himself responsible for her death? I shrugged off the tense silence and the questions as we began to descend. Peering out the window, I spied a neon expanse below, and the closer we got, the bigger the buildings appeared. He’d taken me to Las Vegas. I’d never been, but I recognized the infamous strip, and I’d heard how spectacular Vegas was on New Years Eve.
    What the hell was he up to?
    After the jet came to a stop, he rose and held out his hand. The next half-hour sped by in a blur. People opened doors as if we were royalty, and during the limo ride down the strip, the bustling atmosphere called to me, called to the flutters of excitement in my stomach.
    Him bringing me here . . . it was beginning to make sense. He wanted to show me how good it could be at his side, but what he hadn’t stopped to think about was how he’d already shown me the worst of him. No amount of seduction, sexual or otherwise, would erase that, though I had to admit I was being lured in for a weekend of the best of Gage Channing . . . at least I hoped he’d left the sadist at home.
    After arriving at the hotel, we bypassed the registration desk and went straight to the bank of elevators off the lobby. I watched the numbers light up as we climbed upward. Of course, we didn’t exit until we reached the top floor. He placed his hand on the small of my back, a touch so light that outsiders would think nothing of it. I knew better. His every touch signified ownership.
    “I want to blindfold you,” he said once we’d stopped in front of the door to our room.
    My heart galloped ahead of me for a moment. “Why?”
    “Trust me.”
    “You think you’ve earned my trust?”
    “No, but I think you’re going to give it to me anyway.” He produced a blindfold from his pocket and reached for me.
    I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already slipping it over my eyes. I felt silly standing in the hall, blindfolded while he opened the door. No one else was around to witness my compliance, but that didn’t stop me from wondering about surveillance cameras. After a few moments I heard a beep, and he guided me inside.
    “Watch your step,” he murmured. The floor dipped, and he walked me further into the room, his hands on my hips guiding me the whole way. “Stop here.”
    I halted and waited, holding my breath, wondering what he’d do. I’d agreed to the blindfold but nothing else . . . and he hadn’t mentioned anything else. I reminded myself that I wasn’t under his control any longer. He’d promised no contract.
    So why did I feel like this whole trip was a sham? Like I had even less freedom than I’d had before? I drew in a quick breath, and something deep inside me called to him, something craving the unknown—that tingle of anticipation mixed with fear. The part of me that fell back into the dynamic of submissive too easily. The word “Master” was on my tongue, begging to be spoken.
    “Will you whip me if I call you by your name?”
    “Yes.”
    “Will you stop if I tell you to?”
    A few seconds went by, and I heard him inhale. “Yes, but