Keenan (Dangerous Doms 1)

I can hardly make a move without doing something wrong. I sigh.

He’s walking toward me. I swallow hard.

Though I walk freely about this room, I’m still not free. I’m still his captive.

“Yes, sir.” He walks past me toward the bathroom, and I feel oddly bereft.

“After I shower, you’re to shower as well. I have an errand to run, and I don’t want to leave you alone today.”

I nod, but don’t respond. He showers quickly, and a few moments later, returns to the room. “Off with you, now.”

I do what he says, but it takes me a minute to figure out the elaborate shower in here. It’s nothing at all like the one at home. I finally push a lever, and steaming hot water fills the tub. I gasp in surprise, stumble forward, and bash my head against the tile.

I’m such a klutz. I’m rubbing my head when I hear him behind me.

“You alright?” he asks. I nod, closing my eyes. I swallow hard so I don’t cry.

“Konked yer head, then?” he says. Sometimes his accent thickens. I’m not sure why, but it does now.

I nod. Leaning down, he rubs his thumb over my sore forehead and gently kisses the tender spot. Before I can recover, he stands and reaches for the shower, framing my body in front of his as he instructs me. “Like this, lass.” He turns the lever, and steaming hot liquid fills the shower.

“Be quick, now,” he says.

He leaves the room. My heart smacks against my rib cage, my pulse racing at having been so near to him, so close. I shiver. He seems stoic and detached, save for the few moments he’s lost absolute control.

And a little part of me… the cheeky little part, he’s called it… wants to see him lose some of that control. I wonder if I can affect him. So instead of dressing back in my pajamas, I leave the bathroom just in my towel.

I walk in the room nervously, not sure how he’ll react, but look away as if looking for clothing. He turns to see me walk in.

“Christ,” he mutters. “Jesus Christ.”

I lower my eyes, not sure what I’m supposed to do now. This is about as brave as I get.

“Come here,” he whispers, his voice choked and rugged. “Now.”

I walk to him tentatively, though I’m eager to see what he’ll do to me. There’s a tenderness hidden deep within his stern exterior I want to unearth.

When I reach him, he touches the edge of my towel and tugs. I don’t stop it as the damp fabric falls to the floor, and I stand in front of him naked. I’m shaking, unsure of what to expect, unsure what he’ll do.

And I don’t care.

I want him to touch me again.

I spent my life hidden behind the walls of what could’ve been a prison. I never saw the loveliness of the garden or bright sunshine. I never spoke with another person or walked the cobbled streets of our village. And I most certainly have never, ever been touched by a man.

I’ve experienced so little, I’m starving for human affection.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he grates against my ear, his lips grazing my lobe and sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “Gorgeous.”

I swallow hard. “It pleases me that I please you.”

“Caitlin,” he groans. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

“Said what?” I ask. “I only speak the truth.”

“God, woman, don’t I know it?” he whispers. When he pulls me to him, I feel his hardness between us, and I take an involuntary step back.

“Don’t be frightened, lass,” he whispers. “I’ll not hurt you.”

“That’s a lie,” I whisper back. “You’re so capable of hurting me it frightens me.”

“Does it?” he asks, and there’s something like hunger in his eyes. The warm vibration of his voice tickles my ears, his whiskers grazing my skin. “A little fear can heighten an experience, though, as can a little pain.”

My heart hammers, as he runs his hand up and down my back. How can a chaste touch like this ignite me? How does the threat of fear make me eager to hear more?

Weaving his fingers through my soaked hair, he massages my scalp. My head falls back and I sigh, it feels that good. “More,” I whisper. “Mmm, I like that.”

“Say please,” he commands.

“Please, sir.”

“The two magic words,” he chuckles. “Not sure how much I could deny if those words are uttered in that pretty voice of yours.”

He continues to massage my scalp, his mouth hovering over mine. I lean toward him and he pulls back, one corner of his lips quirking up. He’s teasing me. He knows I want this, that I’m eager to feel what it’s like to be kissed. And yet… what will I do when he grants me that wish?

His lips brush against my cheekbone, then lower to my jawline. My head still pulled back by his firm grip in my hair, he kisses everywhere but my lips. Both sides of my jaw. My nose. Each eyelid, one by one, then back to my neck, until I’m dying to feel his lips on mine.