She turned her head to look at the bits and pieces of her phone lying on the floor beside the opposite wall. “You broke my phone. You threw it.”

“Who were you calling?” He knew damn well who she had called and he knew she knew he knew. Still. He wanted her to acknowledge that it had been another man she’d turned to. Another leopard.

“Let go of me before I smack you over the head.”

“Who. Were. You. Calling?” He bit out each word, his temper rising.

Siena didn’t seem intimidated. She reached down with her free hand, picked up a pillow and hit him in the head with it. Yeah. He lost control of her. She knew she’d reduced him to a marshmallow. Self-preservation was an ugly need rising like a tidal wave. A leopard’s fury mingled with his own, both determined to dominate. To control. He needed control. It was the only way he survived. She had stripped him bare, and now she was defying him.

He yanked her down onto the bed so that she sprawled across his lap, facedown on the mattress. Before she could move or speak, his hand came down hard on her ass. He smacked her five times in rapid succession. Hard. Making it count. Letting her know he wasn’t going to be led around by his cock. Snarling. Growling even.

She began to struggle and he held her down, his hand on her red ass, smoothing over the handprints there, realizing his fury was about fear. Helplessness. She hadn’t only stripped him bare and exposed that only soft spot, the place he could be killed; now he was terrified of someone hurting her. He needed complete control over all things in his life, especially Siena, and he feared there was no controlling Siena.

“You hit me. You bastard. I can’t believe you hit me.”

She stopped struggling and lay across him, shaking, her body soft and pliant, no sound emerging. He thought she was crying but he couldn’t tell. Then a small sound, muffled by the mattress slipped out. Quiet. He was certain soft little sobs shook her body, but her face was turned away from him.

Remorse hit him hard. It wasn’t about Siena at all; it was about him. His fears. His needs. His desire for complete control. No. It was even worse than that. He didn’t want her to know just how far she’d gotten in. He continued to rub her bottom, trying to soothe away the hurt he’d caused.