“I want more. I need more from you!”

Biting back a frustrated growl, he wrenched me by the arm and pulled me from the bathroom, into the bedroom, and bent me over the bed again. A piece of me died right there. My ass was already raw from the last punishment. How much more did he need to dole out? How much more did he think I could take?

Blinking silent tears down my cheeks, I closed my eyes to the sound of a drawer sliding open and slamming shut. His footfalls thundered across the room, and at the first touch of his hand on my bottom, I tensed, my misery and fear and anger tearing from my lips, unbidden.

But…

What the hell?

“Relax,” he said, voice soft, almost tender, and it tore my heart out just to set it in place again. “Even animals can be tamed.” He rubbed something into my skin that soothed my burning welts.

My legs trembled violently, and I cried in earnest, this time out of pure relief. More tears escaped, but not because I was sad, hurt or even scared. His touch reassured me that the man I’d fallen even more in love with while trapped in that tunnel still existed. The man who’d take care of me. Protect me. Love me.

“Do you hate me for what I did earlier?” Uncertainty tinged his voice, and it was so fucking surreal, this constant battle he seemed to be in with himself.

I chewed on my lip for a few moments, deliberating on how truthful I should be. Giving him my honesty would mean he’d only push harder in the future. Did I want that?

Maybe I did.

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do that will make me hate you.”

He pulled me up by the shoulders, apparently satisfied that my ass was taken care of. “I know you want more from me, babe. I wanna give you more. I wanna give you fucking everything.” He stalked to the dresser, his steps taking on the weight of importance, urgency. He pulled out two sets of clothing—one for him and one for me.

“There’s something I need to do before this fight, and I want you there with me for it.”

18. Family Matters - Rafe

18. FAMILY MATTERS - RAFE

“Why are we here?” she asked, keeping her voice low as we entered the gymnasium. I appreciated her desire to remain low key. I’d told her on the way in that I didn’t want to be spotted, especially as the once famous Rafe “The Choker” Mason. But instinctively, I knew her need to be invisible stemmed from more than my wish for her to do so.