He destabilized every ounce of her being with his presence alone.

From the first moment she met Stephen and in every minute of the short month she’d known him, a strange obsession to obey him, to please him, to give herself to him conquered her. In her innocence, she failed to comprehend the beauty of her fascination for him. She only understood the lively, provocative radiance coursing through her when he led and she followed.

Every day I thought about her, waiting for her to come back so I could cane her for her insolence, her disobedience for not coming back to me sooner.” She caught her breath and moaned at the thought of her Master caning her. “You’d like that, baby-girl? A caning?” “Yes, Master, to teach me a lesson.

How could she truly appreciate the gentleness of Stephen’s touch if she didn’t know the extent of how rough he could be with her?

But the girl in his arms stole his heart and stripped him of his pride. Her touch made him both weak and strong at the same time. He was nothing without her.

She could withstand his hunger because of her own.

His pride demanded he make her pay, make her weak for him, make her beg shamelessly for a mere touch. He wanted her hot and soaking wet, bearing the mark of his whip—no, his cane. He wanted to hear her call him her Master.

They couldn’t understand why he chose patience over hauling her ass straight over to his home and collaring her, since he was clearly in love with her.

This had been her fantasy for ages. Bound, bruised, and loved by Stephen.

Every time he entered his study, he relived the time she had crawled under his desk, tucked his shoe-clad foot into her side, curled her arm around his leg, and slept. After he finished his work, he pulled her out from under his desk and carried up her upstairs to a spare bedroom.