War of Hearts

by Julia Sykes

  “I… What did you ask me again?”

  A low, rumbling sound left my chest. It took me a moment to recognize it as a laugh.

  That was enough to make me ease back. I might be affecting her, but she was entrancing me. I couldn’t push too far. She was Joseph’s, not mine. And if I stayed this close to her for a second longer, I’d do a whole lot more to make her tremble.

  I glanced around at the mess she’d made to give myself an excuse to break eye contact. I noticed my sketchbook in the drawer she’d been going through when I’d walked in. It was unopened.

  That was probably for the best. If I’d seen her reaction to my sketches, I couldn’t have held back. Because given Joseph’s tastes, she’d definitely respond to the images.

  “You’ll clean this up later,” I told her. “Don’t go through my things again.”

  I could just move her to one of the sixteen guest bedrooms, but I liked the idea of her sleeping in my bed, even if I couldn’t be in there with her. Besides, I had the nicest room in the house, and I didn’t intend to treat her badly while she was my captive.

  “Come on.” I turned and gestured for her to follow me. “I made dinner.”

  “Are you going to keep giving me the silent treatment?” I asked, teasing her just a little. Although she probably wouldn’t know I was teasing, since I didn’t smile. I rarely did; I didn’t have a lot of practice smiling while I was doing my family’s work.

  Blue sparks danced in her eyes, and the angry twist of her lips let me know she wanted to give me a piece of her mind. She set her fork down beside her nearly empty plate. She’d devoured the spaghetti bolognese I’d made for her, so she must have been hungry. Even if she hadn’t commented on my culinary skills, she’d enjoyed it.

  “What could we possibly have to talk about?” she asked, her voice clipped as she flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder. I wondered if it felt as silky as it looked. I could imagine wrapping it around my fist while she sucked my cock.

  My dick throbbed, and I redirected my thoughts.

  “You’re an Art History major, right? Tell me about that.”

  She blinked at me. “How do you know I’m an Art History major?”

  “I told you, I had people monitoring you. I know a lot about you.”

  She scowled at me. “You don’t know anything about me at all.”

  “Don’t I? I know you have a three point eight two GPA. I know you went through rush for a sorority but didn’t pledge. I know your favorite coffee shop on campus and your favorite dining hall. I even know that you like your pumpkin spice latte without foam.”

  Her eyes widened. I’d clearly unsettled her, but there was no point hiding reality from her. This was our world, and she was a part of it now.

  “I know your father is a psychiatrist in Savannah, Georgia, and your mother is a neurosurgeon in Chicago. I know they divorced when you were eight, but they both still provided you with enough money for you to have everything you could ever want.”

  “Shut up!” she shouted with sudden fervor. The hint of fear I’d sensed in her had been overwhelmed by rage. I’d hit a nerve. “You don’t know me at all.”

  She shoved back from the kitchen island where we’d been eating and got to her feet. Without a backward glance at me, she started storming out of the room.

  I caught up to her before she got to the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I wrapped my hand around her slender arm when she didn’t stop walking. She tried to jerk away, but I held her fast.

  “Away from you!” she burst out. “Let me go.” She shoved me. When that accomplished nothing, she beat at my chest with her fist.

  I didn’t even bother catching her wrist to stop her. I simply started walking, keeping my grip on her arm. I was careful not to hold tight enough to bruise, but she had no hope of escaping from me.

  She was forced to follow, even though she continued to twist her arm in my grip.

  “Let me go,” she demanded again.

  “No. Stop struggling, or you’ll hurt yourself.”

  “You’re hurting me,” she shrieked. She was getting dramatic again. I didn’t find her quite as cute anymore.

  “No, I’m not. Calm down.”

  I started leading her toward the stairs.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “I’m putting you to bed.”

  “What?” she spluttered. “You can’t do that. I’m not a child.”

  “You clearly can’t behave like a rational adult. If you act like a brat, you get treated like a brat.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “Stop acting like that.”

  Her teeth closed with an audible snap, and she glowered at me in sullen silence. She also stopped trying to get away from me. She wasn’t exactly meek, but she’d definitely gotten the message.

  Good. Between her hysterics and Joseph’s melodrama, I was ready for this day to be over.

  When we got to my room, I finally released her, but I kept her fixed in my stern stare.

  I gestured at my overturned bedroom. “I expect this mess to be cleaned up by this time tomorrow,” I informed her.

  Her jaw dropped, as though she couldn’t believe the way I was treating her.

  And maybe she couldn’t. I was sure she’d been coddled and given everything she’d ever asked for in life. If any girl had ever needed structure and discipline, it was Ashlyn.

  She belongs to Joseph, I reminded myself before I got any more ideas about disciplining her.

  I closed the door, hiding her from my view. I needed to put distance between us, or I might do something I’d regret. I made sure to lock her in before I went back to my media room. I didn’t want my little captive to try to escape when I wasn’t watching her.

  Chapter Seven

  Joseph

  “Do you know what your friend did to me?” Ashlyn fumed as soon as I opened the bedroom door. She sat on the bed, her arms crossed. She didn’t appear to have been engaging in any activity other than stewing over whatever was making her angry.

  Marco had told me he locked her in the room over an hour ago. So, she’d had a lot of time to get worked up.

  “He said you were angry after dinner, so he brought you back up here.”

  She slapped her hand down on the mattress beside her. “He didn’t bring me back up here. He put me to bed. Like I’m some sort of naughty child. He keeps calling me a brat. He’s a misogynistic prick.”

  “He’s not,” I corrected her, maybe a touch more sharply than I should have. Marco loved women. In his own way.

  She glowered at me. I didn’t like when she looked at me like that; like I’d betrayed her. Like she hated me.

  I lifted the shopping bags I held in a gesture of contrition. “I got some clothes for you in the city.”

  Her frown eased, her eyes sparking with interest. She wanted the new clothes. I wasn’t sure if she simply liked new, pretty things, or if she was desperate to change. She’d been wearing the same clothes since Marco had abducted her last night. That had been over twenty-four hours ago.

  I decided I didn’t care what the source of her interest was. If she was excited for me to buy her new things, I was happy to give her anything she wanted.

  She pointed at the foot of the bed. “You can leave them there,” she said in an imperious tone I didn’t care for. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  I didn’t move to comply. Her suddenly haughty attitude didn’t suit her softer nature. And it certainly didn’t suit me. I’d give her anything she asked for, but if she thought I’d obey her commands, she was sorely mistaken. I might worship her, but that didn’t mean I was her slave.

  “What?” she asked when I didn’t do as she demanded. She was getting annoyed. “Do I need Marco’s permission to take a shower or something?”

  Something dark stirred in my chest. Because I knew exactly how Marco would feel about her waiting for his permission to do anything. Hell, he’d probably deny he
r the shower and insist on bathing her himself. I had my kinks, but Marco possessed his own perversions.

  But Ashlyn didn’t belong to him. She was mine, and as much as I’d like to join her in the shower, I was very aware of her anger toward me. She wasn’t going to forgive me for my complicity in her capture. I wouldn’t impose myself on her when she wasn’t willing. No matter how badly I might want to.

  “You don’t need Marco’s permission,” I informed her coolly. “But that attitude won’t get you anywhere with me, either.”

  Her jaw dropped, but no words came out. I supposed I’d subtly dominated her in the past, but I’d never been overt about it. I could reel myself back now, but I didn’t want to. The dark part of me accepted that she was my captive, and I could treat her how I wanted. It was liberating. Something was shifting between us, even if she didn’t recognize it yet.

  She’d railed at me for hiding my true self from her during our time together in Cambridge.

  Well, if she wanted the real me, that’s what she’d get. I might not be willing to fully corrupt her with all my perverted desires, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to take her in hand when she was acting this way. Because Marco was right; she was being a brat. Acting out because she was in a fit of anger.

  She could pout all she wanted, but that wouldn’t sway my decision to keep her. She was in danger, and I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t want the choice. Marco had done me a favor when he brought her to me. I could finally show Ashlyn who I really was, even the ugly parts of myself I wasn’t proud of.

  I set the shopping bags down and rifled through them, quickly finding what I wanted.

  “You can take a shower,” I told her. “Here. This is what you’re wearing to bed.” I held out the short, silky black nightgown I’d bought for her.

  Her eyes widened, and her lips parted on an incredulous gasp. I almost groaned at the sight of her shocked, innocent expression. Her open mouth practically begged to take my cock. I’d never felt her lips around me before. I’d always fucked her tight pussy. But there were so many other ways I wanted to take her.

  “You’ve worn far less around me,” I pointed out when she simply continued to stare at the scrap of black material.

  “I didn’t… I didn’t know you then.” She tried to defy me, but her eyes were still fixed on the nightgown.

  “You want to know me? This is me. And you’ll do as I say.”

  Her mouth finally closed, her lips pressing to a thin line. “No. You might be keeping me here against my will, but I don’t have to do what you say. You can’t boss me around like this.”

  “Can’t I?” I took a step toward her.

  She didn’t shrink away. She froze where she sat on the bed, her breath catching in her throat.

  I’d known she reacted to a little light sexual domination, but I’d never turned this side of myself on her before. Not really.

  I finished closing the distance between us, moving slowly to gauge her reaction. She swallowed, but she didn’t move away.

  I reached out and rubbed the silky nightgown against her face, trailing the soft material over her cheek. She drew in a shuddering breath, and her eyes darkened. She didn’t flinch from my touch.

  “Are you scared, angel? Do I frighten you?”

  “No,” she breathed, without hesitation. “But I’m mad at you,” she added softly. “I don’t trust you.”

  I dropped the nightgown onto the mattress and sat down beside her. She didn’t cringe away, so I took her hand in mine.

  “I know you don’t. But I’ll earn your trust back. I promise. I’d never do anything to hurt you. All I want to do is keep you safe.”

  All I want to do is keep you. I’d made sure to add the safe part. She’d said she wasn’t scared of me, and I didn’t want that to change.

  She nodded. It might not be a verbal admission that she believed me, but it was a start. I owed her a full explanation for what I was doing to her. I’d wanted so badly to hide my life from her while we’d been together in Cambridge, but that had to change.

  “Go take a shower.” I softened the command as much as I could manage. “I’ll be waiting here, and we’ll talk when you come out.”

  She plucked at the nightgown. “Do I have to wear this?”

  I caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger, capturing her in my gaze.

  “Does it make you uncomfortable? Do I make you uncomfortable?”

  She shifted on the mattress, but I didn’t release her.

  “A little bit,” she admitted.

  I raised my free hand to her throat, stroking the column of her neck with my fingertips. She shivered and remained locked in place.

  I leaned in to whisper in her ear, and I heard her breathing hitch as I neared.

  “Do you want to know a secret, angel? I like making you a little uncomfortable. I like watching you shiver and squirm.” I nipped at her earlobe. “Are you scared now?”

  “I… no.” She tilted her head to the side slightly, giving me better access.

  I kissed the little hollow beneath her ear, traced the line of her neck with my tongue. She let out a soft moan. My cock throbbed, but I held myself back. I couldn’t fuck her. Not yet. I still owed her the truth, and then she could decide if she really wanted me.

  “Wear the nightgown for me.” I didn’t bother to conceal the ring of command this time.

  “Okay,” she agreed on a sigh.

  I would have preferred a Yes, Sir, but she was nowhere near ready for that. She might never be ready for that. I craved it, but I could do without, if she would be mine.

  I pressed a kiss against her collarbone. “Good girl.”

  I withdrew from her slowly, and she swayed toward me. Our connection was as powerful as ever. She just needed some time and some truth to make her come around and accept it again.

  “Go on,” I prompted when she didn’t move.

  She scooted off the bed, grabbing up the scrap of black silk before darting to the opulent bathroom. She shut the door behind her, as though that could put a barrier between us.

  It would take a hell of a lot more to truly keep me from her, but for now, I’d give her some breathing room. No matter how badly I wanted to join her in the shower.

  My cock got rock hard as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom. The skimpy nightgown was so short, it barely covered her pussy. If she turned around, I’d see her luscious ass peeking out beneath the hem.

  She stopped in the threshold to the bedroom, freezing in place as I examined her. I allowed myself a full minute to admire her body, drinking in her perfect curves and smooth, alabaster skin. Her nipples pebbled in response to my rapt attention, and the thin silk did little to hide the peaked buds.

  I wanted to close the distance between us and rip the flimsy material from her body, revealing the dusky pink tips of her nipples and exposing her fully. It had been so long since I’d seen her naked, and I ached to learn her perfection all over again.

  Her white teeth sank into her pouty lower lip, and her hands twisted together in front of her. I recognized her nervous tics. She was feeling shy, vulnerable.

  Now wasn’t the time for me to strip her, pin her against the wall, and fuck her hard. She needed me to handle her carefully; she needed tenderness, not aggression. I found her innocence enticing, but I didn’t want her to be anxious around me.

  I stood and approached her slowly, allowing her time to move away if she wanted to.

  She remained fixed in place. Her eyes roved over my body as I moved, flicking down from my steady stare to focus on the ridge of my cock where it strained against my jeans. She licked her lips, and I bit back a lustful growl.

  When I reached her, I took a deep breath and held out my hand, giving her the option to take it.

  She immediately initiated contact, clasping my hand with her much smaller one. I closed my fingers around hers and led her back to the bed, guiding her to sit beside me on the edge of the mattress.

  I brushed a s
tray lock of hair back from her face, and she closed her eyes at the electric contact. I didn’t want to stop touching her, so I indulged myself. I stroked her hair, letting the damp, silky strands fall through my fingers. When I reached her shoulder, I traced the line of her collarbone before running my palm down her arm. Her skin pebbled beneath my touch, her body lighting up with the same awareness that gripped me.

  My fingers closed around her hand again, my thumb brushing across the inside of her wrist. Her eyes closed, and she swayed toward me. Her head tipped back, waiting for my lips to capture hers.

  I brought my free hand up and allowed it to sink into her hair, fisting it at her nape. She sucked in a small gasp when I tugged her back, and her eyes flew wide.

  I thought I’d see the sting of rejection in her eyes, and an apology teased at the tip of my tongue. But it wasn’t necessary. She stared up at me with raw lust. She liked my hand in her hair, the little bite of pain as I wrapped it around my fist and took control.

  With great effort, I eased my hold and resumed stroking my fingers through her hair, lightly massaging her scalp.

  She let out a blissful sigh and leaned toward me again. She wasn’t seeking a kiss this time. She rested her head against my shoulder, relaxing into me.

  I shifted my touch just long enough to grip her waist and position her body so she was curled up in my lap. Then, I resumed petting her. She snuggled closer with a happy humming sound.

  “I missed you, angel,” I said, my voice a pleased rumble.

  “I missed you, too,” she admitted. She lifted her head, her beautiful blue eyes catching mine. “You said we could talk. I’m still not happy with you, but I want to hear what you have to say.”

  I lightly rubbed a pressure point behind her ear, and her lashes fluttered as she practically purred.

  I chuckled. “Are you sure you’re not happy, angel?”

  “Stop distracting me and talk,” she grumbled, but there was no real bite in the order.

  I took a deep, sobering breath. It was time to discuss the reality of her situation, and that knowledge cooled most of my lust. Once I was finished, she might turn from me in disgust.