Hold Me

“Don’t,” I whisper as he leans down and brushes his lips against my ear, the tender gesture a stark contrast to the threat of his body looming over me. “Julian, don’t do this.”

He straightens, his eyes like hard blue gems. “Don’t do what?” Transferring my wrists into one of his large palms, he trails his free hand over my breasts and down my belly, his fingers grazing over my burning skin.

“Don’t—” My voice breaks, his touch making my core throb with need despite the lingering chill. “Don’t let it be like this.”

His hand comes up, his fingers catching my jaw in an inescapable grip. “Like what?” he asks, his tone deceptively even. “Like you’re mine?”

My breath catches. “I’m your wife, not your  slave—”

“You’re whatever I wish you to be, my pet. I own you.” The casual cruelty of his words hits me like a blow, knocking all air out of my lungs. Something of my reaction must’ve shown because his grip on me eases, his tone softening slightly as he says, “This is your home, Nora. Here. With me. Not out there.”

“They’re my parents, Julian. My family. Just like you are my family now. I can’t spend my whole life locked in a cage for my safety. I’ll go crazy.” I can feel tears gathering behind my eyelids, and I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back. The last thing I want is to show what an emotional mess I am these days.

Stupid pregnancy hormones.

Julian stares at me, his eyes glittering with frustration, and then, with an abrupt movement, he releases me, stepping back. Turning off the water, he steps out of the stall, grabbing a towel with barely controlled violence. His cock is still hard, and the fact that he’s not already on me is surprising, even considering his new, treat-Nora-like-glass approach.

Moving cautiously, I follow him out of the shower, my wet feet sinking into the plush softness of the bathroom mat. “Can you please—” I begin, but Julian is already stepping toward me with the towel. Wrapping it around me, he pats me dry before stepping back to grab another towel for himself.

“What does all this have to do with Yulia Tzakova?” His words stop me in my tracks as I’m about to leave the bathroom. When I turn toward him in confusion, he clarifies, “The Russian interpreter you saw yesterday. Does she have anything to do with your sudden desire to see your parents?”

I consider denying it for a second, but Julian can tell when I’m lying. “In a way,” I say carefully. “I just need some time away from here, a change of scenery. I need a breather, Julian.” I swallow, holding his gaze. “I need it badly.”

He stares at me, and then, without saying another word, goes into the bedroom to get dressed.

* * *

At breakfast, Julian is silent, seemingly absorbed with emails on his iPad. I feel ignored—an unfamiliar sensation for me. Usually, when we have meals together, I have Julian’s undivided attention, and the fact that he’s focusing on something else bothers me far more than is reasonable.

I debate trying to break the silence, but I don’t want to make things worse. As it is, this morning’s argument probably killed my chances of getting off the estate. I should’ve waited until a more appropriate time to bring up the visit to my parents; blurting it out in the middle of a make-out session hadn’t been the smartest move.

Of course, there’s no guarantee that a different approach would’ve altered the outcome. Once Julian makes a decision, I have little chance of changing his mind, especially if the matter concerns my safety. I fought him on the trackers, and they’re still embedded in my body. Julian will never let me remove them, just as he might never let me off the compound. For all intents and purposes, he does own me, and there’s nothing I can do about that fact.

Trying not to give in to the dull despair pressing down on me, I finish my eggs and get up, not wanting to linger in the tense atmosphere. Before I can step away from the table, however, Julian looks up from his iPad and gives me a sharp look. “Where are you going?”

“To study for my exams,” I reply cautiously.

“Sit.” He gestures imperiously toward my chair. “We’re not done yet.”

Suppressing a flare of anger, I return to my seat and cross my arms. “I really have to study, Julian.”

“When is your last final?”

I stare at him, my pulse accelerating as a tiny bubble of hope forms in my chest. “It’s flexible with the online program. If I finish all the lectures early, I can take the exams right away.”

“So early June?” he presses.

“No, sooner.” I place my sweaty palms on the table. “I can potentially be done in the next week and a half.”

“Okay.” He looks down at the iPad again and types something as I watch him, hardly daring to breathe. After a minute, he looks up again, pinning me with a hard blue gaze. “I’m only going to tell you this once, Nora,” he says evenly. “If you disobey me, or do anything to endanger yourself while we’re in Chicago, I will punish you. Do you understand me?”

Before he even finishes speaking, I’m halfway around the table, nearly knocking over his chair as I leap on him. “Yes!” I don’t even know how I end up on his lap, but somehow I’m there, my arms wrapped around his neck as I rain kisses all over his face. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

He lets me kiss him until I run out of breath, and then he frames my face with his big hands, gazing at me intently. I can see the gleam of desire in his eyes, feel the hard bulge pressing into my thighs, and I know we’re going to continue what we started this morning. My body begins to pulse in anticipation, my nipples tightening under the fabric of my dress.