“Oh.” She arches into my touch, closing her eyes. “Oh, yeah, right there… Oh, that’s so good…”

She sounds like I’m fucking her, and my response is instantaneous.

I get hard. Very hard.

Fuck.

Drawing in a breath, I rein in my lust, like I’ve been doing for the past two weeks. When I take her tonight, it will again be in a careful and controlled manner. Regardless of the provocation, I will not risk damaging the baby.

“Is that your Psychology paper?” I keep my tone even as I continue to massage her neck. “You seem to be really into it.”

“Oh, yeah.” She opens her eyes and tilts her head to look at me. “It’s on Stockholm Syndrome.”

My hands still. “Is that right?”

She nods, a dark little smile curving her lips. “Yes. Interesting subject, don’t you think?”

“Yes, fascinating,” I say drily. My pet is definitely getting bolder. Taunting me—likely in the hopes that I’ll punish her.

And I want to. My hands itch to bend her over my knee, hike up that giant T-shirt, and spank her perfectly shaped ass until it’s pink and red. My cock throbs at the image, especially when I imagine spreading open her cheeks afterwards and penetrating her tight little asshole—

Fucking stop thinking about it. I see Nora’s smile deepen as her eyes flick down to the bulge in my jeans. The little witch knows exactly what she’s doing to me, what kind of effect she’s having on my body.

“Yes, I’m loving it,” she murmurs, her gaze returning to my face. “I’m learning so much about the topic.”

I inhale slowly and resume rubbing her neck. “Then you’ll have to educate me, my pet,” I say calmly, as if my body isn’t raging with the need to fuck her. “I’m afraid I skipped Psychology at Caltech.”

Nora’s smile turns sardonic. “You’re just a natural then, aren’t you?”

I hold her gaze silently, not bothering to reply. There’s no need for words. I saw her, I wanted her, and I took her. It’s as simple as that. If she wants to label our relationship, to make it fit some psychobabble definition, she’s free to do so.

She’ll just never be free of me.

After a few moments, she sighs and closes her eyes, leaning into my touch again. I can feel her muscles slowly relaxing as I massage her shoulders and neck. The challenging expression fades from her face, leaving her looking peculiarly young and defenseless. With her eyelashes fanning over her smooth cheeks, she seems as innocent as a newborn fawn, untouched by anything bad in life.

Untouched by me.

For a moment, I wonder what it would be like if things were different. If I were just a boy she met in school, like that Jake I took her from. Would she love me more? Would she love me at all? If I didn’t take her the way I did, would she have been mine?

It’s foolish to wonder about that, of course. I might as well speculate about time travel or what I’d do if the world came to an end. My reality doesn’t allow for what-ifs. What if my parents didn’t die and I finished Caltech? What if I’d refused to kill that man when I was eight? What if I’d been able to protect Maria? If I think about all that, I’ll go insane, and I refuse to let that happen.