“Sir or Master.”
She had every intention of walking into the house, but her pride got the better of her. She gritted her teeth, folded her arms across her chest and dug her heels into the ground.
He raised an eyebrow, smiling a very amused smile all along and she knew he was enjoying this way more than he should be.
“Suit yourself,” he said and before she knew it, she was over his shoulder. She shrieked when he smacked her ass and carried her to the door before she could get two words out.
Luke’s face was set when he carried a struggling Emma into his house. He doubted she knew how much seeing her tonight had affected him. It had been six years since the night she’d walked in on him fucking her brother’s fiancée. He still flinched at that memory, both at the knowledge of what he’d done to his best friend and at the accusation in Emma’s eyes. He’d been thirty-two at the time and Emma had been just eighteen. Too young to fall in love with. But the rage he felt tonight when he’d removed her blindfold still made his hands clench into tight fists. It was the realization that he’d been the one to strip her bare and stand her before the others to be gawked at that burned.
“Stop struggling,” he said while he tried to get the key in the lock.
“Do you say that to all your girlfriends?”
“Usually don’t have to. And by the way, I’m not your boyfriend.” That didn’t sound like he wanted it to sound.
She stilled at his comment and his keys dropped to the floor.
“God damn it, Emma,” he said. He set her down and when he met her eyes, he only saw hurt. He quickly bent to pick up the keys, this time succeeding in slipping the right one into the lock and opening the door.
“In,” he said, standing to the side.
“This is called kidnapping!” she said, but she walked in. He imagined she was more than a little cold given her state of dress.
“This is called saving your ass, little girl. A little gratitude will go a long way with me, you know.”
“Gratitude?” she asked.
He closed the door and turned to her.
“Gratitude?” she repeated, tilting her head slightly, ready for a brawl.
He looked her over from head to toe and had to smile. She stood all of 5’2” tall, wearing a wrap that just barely covered her bottom, her thigh-high stockings visible from beneath. Her dark hair was tousled and looked like she’d been sleeping on it for two nights. At least she didn’t dye it blazing red anymore. Between the blindfold and her tears, her makeup had smudged so black lined more of her face than her eyes.
But even given the state she was in, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Are you listening to me?” she asked, her expression one of outrage.
“Sorry, were you saying something?” he asked.
“You are unbelievable!” she said and pushed past him to open the door.
As soon as she did, he put a hand over her head and effortlessly closed it. She tugged at it again, but when it wouldn’t give, she turned her back to the door and folded her arms across her chest.
“Are you ready to listen to me now?” he asked.
“No,” she said and scanned the room.
“Where are you going to go? It’s the middle of the night, you’re in the mountains, you have no mode of transport and you’re just about naked.”
She only stared back at him. She was stubborn, as stubborn as he.
“Besides,” he said, bringing her attention back to him by lifting her chin with just a little more force than necessary. “I own you for the next two days and I’ve decided to give you a taste of what you think you’re looking for. A little education in submission.”
“You can’t keep me here against my will,” she said.
“I don’t think I’ll have to,” he retorted, taking a chance.
“You’re a little full of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked. “But then again, it takes a big ego to do what you did, doesn’t it?”
He flinched, understanding the reference to that night six years ago. So she hadn’t forgiven him. He studied her, her gaze daring, taunting.
He took a moment before answering. “Do you want to go home, Emma?” he asked, his tone calmer. “Do you want me to take you home?”
Emma looked up into his dark eyes. She’d hurt him, but it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve her comment. After all, he had fucked her brother’s fiancée, or slut Julie as she liked to call her, when Nate, her brother, had thought they were best friends. What kind of a man does that?
A voice inside her head told her to calm down. She didn’t know the whole situation, she wasn’t involved and if Nate could forgive him, why couldn’t she? And besides, wasn’t there another reason she was so angry with him? One closer to her own heart? She narrowed her eyes at that thought.