Atonement (Master's Protege 2)

“You just have that look in your eyes.”

“What look?”

He stalks to his desktop like he’s about to wrestle it to the floor, and when I don’t respond at first, his narrowed gaze cuts to me. I open my mouth, and I’m about to respond, when there’s a sharp knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Cain practically fumes.

“Joe.”

“Come in.” He points to a chair for me to sit in, and I glare right back at him. No, you do not, Mr. Master. He shakes his head at me, his frown promising that we’re going to have a serious talk when Joe’s gone.

The tension in the air must be palpable because Joe freezes mid-step and looks from me to Cain. “Bad timing?”

“No. What is it?” Cain asks. He fires up the laptop.

“Got another call from Robbins.”

“Fucking hell,” Cain mutters to himself. “What now?”

“Wants an update?”

“I’ll give her a fucking update,” I volunteer, but Cain slices a hand in my direction as if telling me to knock it off. The goddamn nerve of him…

“She says it’s been three days, and she wants to know when you’ll have the information.”

“You can tell her, per our contract, that I need a week or more before I respond, but that I always try to respond within a week. It’s been three days.”

He grimaces, then nods. “She’s impatient.”

Cain’s eyes narrow. “So am I.”

He’s got that right.

The door finally shuts with a bang when Joe leaves. Cain stands, storms over to the door, then throws the deadbolt.

My heart beats faster.

I let my eyes rove over him for a few seconds, and I don’t breathe while I do. He’s wearing one of those long-sleeved faded tees in a dark gray that brings out the blue-gray storms in his eyes he gets from time to time. It’s tight across his chest and arms, like most clothes designed for normal humans typically are. He’s wearing faded jeans, frayed at the bottom. One might think they’re stylish, but if I know Cain, it’s because it’s one of only a handful of pairs he owns, and he’s owned them for decades.

His heavy, thick boots are planted on the floor, and his hands are on his hips. I sit in his huge, leather desk chair, absolutely dwarfed by it, and nonchalantly plop my feet up on his desk.

I like poking the bear.

He growls low.

“What?”

“Strip.”

I stare at him in surprise, not expecting that command. “Strip?”

“You heard me.” He doesn’t move.

Oh, great. He’s pissed, and now he’s either going to fuck me to remind me who’s boss or use my body in some way to punish me.

“Okay, so let’s get this straight. You made me a promise. I made you one. I kept my end up, and now you’re… getting mad at me or something?”

“Do I look mad?”

I nod. “You look fucking pissed.”

He frowns slightly, then nods. “I am.”

I throw up my hands in exasperation. “You’re maddening, you know that?”

“Takes two, babe.”

“What? You think I’m maddening?”

“I do.” No reaction. He glances at the clock on his desk. “You have two minutes, starting right now.”

“Or what?” I throw back at him, even as my hands fly to unfasten my shoes.

“Or I’ll strip you myself, and I’ll strip more than your fucking clothes.”

Oh God.

My hands tremble as I remove my shoes, then stand up and quickly disrobe. The rest of my clothing falls to the floor in a crumpled heap until all I’m doing is standing in front of him wearing nothing but my birthday suit.

“You’re beautiful.”

I look away. I can’t handle praise like that. It makes me uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” I murmur. I shiver, though I’m warm in here. He pulls out his phone and talks into the speaker. “Tell everyone I don’t want to be disturbed until further notice.”

He slides his phone into his pocket.

“Come here, baby,” Cain says. He walks to me, sits at his desk, then pulls me onto his lap. Once again, I’m struck by the contrast of him fully clothed and clothed well, and me stark naked, straddling him.

He lives for an imbalance in power.

Thrives on it.

I’m not so sure how I feel about this.

“Are we… talking about avenging my parents while I’m… naked?”

“We’ll be talking about a lot of things with you naked on my lap like this.”

A glimmer of excitement rushes through me before I can stop it, and it aggravates the hell out of me because this puts him at a decided advantage. After only days with Cain mastering my body, I began to be conditioned to crave more.

And I like it. I like all of it. I love the way he is with me. But I wonder if this isn’t to his full advantage to “discuss” things when I’m not wearing any clothes.

“It sounds to me like you’ll be getting the long end of the stick on that one?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You might be getting the long end of the stick, too.”