Contractually Yours

I look at him levelly. “What will you do to even the scales for me, then?”
“Anything,” he says, holding my eyes.
His response is too easy. I’ve heard so many men glibly say whatever
they need to say to get what they want.
I pull my hand out of his and take five long steps back. He watches, his
eyes dark. “If I tell you to crawl on your knees for me, will you?”
“For you?” A corner of his mouth lifts, as though he’s saying, That’s all?
“Over the proverbial mile of broken glass.”
Skepticism lingers. Words. Such easy words.
He drops to his knees. My lips part as a stunned breath leaves me.
He crawls toward me. He should look small—servile, even. But instead,
he seems oddly powerful and resolute—like a man who knows what he
wants and is going to do anything to get it. His eyes ensnare mine, and I can’t
move as he closes the distance between us.
He stops when he’s only an inch away from the tip of my shoes. He looks
up with a smile. “How did I do?”
I remain speechless. I’m not worth him throwing away his pride and
doing this… I don’t have anything left for him to take.
His face grows taut, like he can read what’s flashing through my head. He
wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me flush against him. “You are
worth it, Lucienne Peery. You are the prize. I can do this over and over again
until you believe that.”
Tears prickle my eyes. I lay my left hand on his hair. “This is unfair. You
weren’t supposed to fight this dirty. You were just supposed to ply me with
pretty words over dinner.”