Strict (Part Nine) by Hannah Ford

Author:Hannah Ford [Ford, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-25T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 7

GAGE

“Stay still,” I command her.

“I am staying still.”

“Not still enough.”

“It’s impossible to stay completely still, Gage.” Chloe wriggles around in the bath I’ve drawn for her, pushing her back up against the side of the deep soaking tub in the master bedroom.

It’s been two days since she’s been home from the hospital. Her parents left an hour or so ago, after lots of reassurance that I would call them if anything happened. They didn’t want to leave her with me – of that I was sure.

But they also didn’t push as hard as they normally would have. I’d been extra careful to give them space while they were here, making sure they had time with Chloe and that I was nothing but respectful to them and their daughter.

I understood their worries, and I wanted to prove to them I had nothing but good intentions for their daughter. Especially since I can’t imagine being without her.

I stare down at her now, this brilliant, gorgeous woman, naked in the bath before me. Her body is beautiful, the soft swell of her breasts and the sweet peaks of her nipples causing my cock to stiffen.

I bend over the edge of the tub and run my finger down the bruise on her collarbone. Rage flies through me, hard and fast.

I remember how it felt to have Brandon in my hands, the satisfaction I felt as I snapped the bones of his wrist.

“I should have killed him.” The words are out of my mouth before I can consider whether or not they should even be said.

“Then you would have been no better than he is.” Chloe grabs my hand and brings it to her lips, brushing them softly across my knuckles.

“I have it inside of me, you know. To do that. I would have killed him if I hadn’t needed to get to you first.”

Her hand tightens around mine. “But you didn’t. And I’m here. I’m okay.”

I let my eyes travel over her body, at the bruises that bloom on her otherwise flawless skin. I think of the way I had to help her into the bathroom, letting her hold onto me, her arm draped over my shoulders as we walked. My rage intensifies, and I pick up the loofah that one of my housekeepers has left in an elegant container on the side of the bath, and use it to drip water down Chloe’s back.

We’re both silent for a while, the only sound the slide of the water sluicing down her skin and back into the tub.

She turns to look at me, her eyes meeting mine, and in that moment, she cracks me open. It’s such a visceral reaction it’s as if it’s physical, as if I can actually feel my soul opening up to her, letting her in.

It’s so overwhelming that my first instinct is to rail against it, to try to push against it and shut down. But I rail against my impulses, knowing that fighting against this, fighting against the way I feel about her, will be futile.

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