He yanked me upright by the hair, then pushed me toward the bathroom. “Go shower. Don’t touch yourself and don’t use the damned showerhead to get yourself off.”
Was he fucking serious?
“You can’t expect me to stay like this,” I said, turning to glare at him and rubbing at my sore scalp. My ass felt worse, but I doubted rubbing it would help at all.
He brought up his hand, and I cringed back, but he only tugged on a lock of my hair. His dark eyes were stern. “Obey me, woman.”
Something stupid inside me fluttered. Ugh. Why was I like this with them?
He arched a brow at me, and I gazed up at him, close to simpering.
Oh, he was looking for an answer.
“Yes, Bron.” I entered the still-steamy bathroom, feeling wobbly and more hard-up than I’d ever been before in my life.
I closed the door most of the way but left it slightly ajar. After I turned on the shower, I heard a series of thwacks. Curiosity got the best of me, and I peeked out through the crack I’d left.
Ilya had his hands on the dining table and Bron was behind him, wielding his heavy leather belt. Each stripe he left on Ilya’s back looked painful as hell, but Ilya took it without a sound.
“That’s right, you keep your pretty mouth shut,” Bron was saying, his voice low. “You wouldn’t want the hotel staff to hear you crying like a child. Or is it the presence of your little wife shaming you into silence?”
Cry? I’d never heard Ilya cry, per se, but I’d heard him cry out occasionally when Bron had been in a particularly foul mood.
He hit him a few more times, and even as I flinched, the interplay of muscles in Ilya’s strong back mesmerized me. He had pulled his jeans back up, but they were riding low on his hips, as though they were still undone. The man had a beautiful body. There was no wonder why Bron had ordered him to take off his shirt.
“Did you enjoy spanking her, suka?” Bron demanded, his voice hard.
“Yes, Bron.”
“Did you like playing with her ass?”
“Yes.”
I was blushing again. It was my fault for eavesdropping when I should be in the shower. Steam was filling the luxurious bathroom, and here I was watching the two of them while straining my ears to hear what they were saying.
Bron gave an ugly chuckle. “You weren’t getting her ready for me at all. You did those things because it made your dick hard.” He flicked the belt between Ilya’s legs, and must have caught him in the balls, because Ilya went up on his toes and hissed. His body twisted as he tried not to react too strongly. “Thank me for letting you keep your jeans on.”
“Thank you, Bron.” His voice was strained.
Bron stopped hitting him, but they stayed as they were.
“Was there any other reason you spanked her?”
He breathed carefully for a moment before replying. “I was afraid. When we couldn’t find her, I thought someone might have taken her. I warned her at the club not to wander off again without protection, but she didn’t listen.”
“So now you understand why I discipline you.”
“Because it makes your dick hard, and you care what happens to me?”
“I care?” Bron scoffed. “I’ve been trying to teach you to be a man for how many years? We’ve been alone for most of that time. It’s more like a hostage situation than anything.” Bron folded the belt in his hand, then walked the length of the room and back. Ilya didn’t budge.
“If you don’t like being with me, you could quit.”
“If I quit, your father would probably kill me.”
“Why? You’ve never said why.”
Bron sighed and tipped his head back, as though looking for his patience on the ceiling. He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “For disobeying? Who knows? He has big, dangerous men lined up hoping to catch his notice, but he came to offer me a job, and then eventually gave me to you. I thought he was punishing me for something, but twelve years? I wasn’t even with him for long. I didn’t sleep with his wife or any of your sisters. I don’t understand why he exiled me.”
“You still see me as a burden you must bear.” Ilya hadn’t moved and was still staring down at the table.
“I hate…” He grabbed the back of Ilya’s neck and stood there holding it, as though he was planning to bless him or something. “I hate wondering if we are the way we are together because there haven’t been any women around. The island is peaceful, and it has become my home, but we’re like two men in a free-range prison. Maybe we only fuck because there’s no one else around.”
“We’ve both fucked Delilah. Nothing has changed between us.”
“Everything has changed. You’re in love with her.”
“I—maybe I am.”
What? He wasn’t.
He couldn’t possibly be.