Chapter 15 #2
11:02 P.M.
“Still in here.”
The voice startled Rose since she’d been deep in concentration, and she set the piece of paper she was working on down because she didn't want to do anything to mess it up. She had no idea what time it was or how long she’d there.
She and Steel had worked on origami all afternoon, and he’d all but had to yank the paper out of her hands to get her to go to dinner.
Straight after, she’d come back into the dining room and gotten back to work. Rose knew she could be a bit obsessive when she latched her attention onto something, but she’d quickly found something calming about the smooth folds of paper that soothed out her jangled emotions.
It wasn't easy, that was for sure, but she didn't care.
If something was too easy, she quickly lost interest. It was the challenge of mastering a new skill that drew her in.
Despite how complex origami could be, she was enjoying repeating the same folds over and over, watching as each attempt at a new creation improved with each try.
Steel had even let her use his laptop earlier to go online and look up origami ideas that she wanted to try out.
Even though she knew someone was likely monitoring her every move to make sure she didn't try to contact anyone, Rose had appreciated the gesture of trust, and depressing as it was to admit, she didn't even have anyone she could contact.
So instead, she’d focused on the task at hand and quickly settled on flowers, there were so many different ones, some easier than others, and she had a whole garden’s worth spread all over the table in an array of bright and pastel colors.
Growing their own food had been part of living on a remote, off-grid farm, but Rose had always wanted to have flower gardens.
Her brother told her that it was frivolous and in the time it would take her to tend it, she could be learning something or growing something they could actually use, so when she’d moved into her own home, she’d quickly transformed the garden into a flower paradise.
“It’s addictive,” she told Steel as he strode over and picked up a flower she’d just finished.
“This is your best yet,” he praised.
Her skin flushed, and she hated that she even cared that he complimented her.
She did care, though. Compliments weren't part of her life as a child.
Ridge believed that no one was perfect—well, no one except him—and that you could always improve.
So even if she did something well, he always managed to find something that she could have done better.
“It’s a tulip.”
“I can see that. I made you this.”
When he placed a ladybug in her hand, Rose couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you. It’s adorable. Maybe I’ll have to move on to garden insects when I finish mastering flowers. I bet there are some gorgeous butterfly and dragonfly ideas I could try out, maybe some cute little bumble bees, too.”
“Later, though. It’s after eleven, I thought you might like to watch some fireworks.”
“Fireworks? I didn't think your place was close enough to any city that might be setting them off.” She wasn't really hinting for information on where they were, she had just assumed that the mansion had to be remote because the guys were hiding from her brother, so Ridge couldn’t get his claws back into his creations.
“It’s not. Thunder decided to make his own, and Dragon has been itching for a chance to let out some of his aggression, so he’s helping.”
“Do you guys set off fireworks every New Year’s Eve?” she asked as she pushed away from the table and stretched out the kinks in her back from spending so long bent over the table.
“No. Never. This will be the first.”
Straightening, she looked over at Steel. “Because of me?”
“Mmhmm.” He nodded, and in a rare moment of vulnerability, dropped his guard a little to show the uncertainty he was feeling. It helped to know he was as confused about the weird tension brewing between them as she was.
For once, she didn't want to be a brat, she wanted to feel something real rather than the shields she kept up to protect herself. “I like fireworks,” she said softly.
The answering smile Steel gave her made her heart soar.
It was well worth the small amount it cost her to give Steel something genuine.
She was so tired of shields, of fear, and wanted to be able to figure out who the real Rose Gardner was.
The one who just existed, who wasn't molded, who wasn't hiding, who didn't have to always be the tough girl because she had no one to count on to watch her back.
“I have the perfect place to watch them.”
Nodding, Rose didn't fight it when his large hand claimed hers, and she followed him willingly through the house and up the stairs. They didn't stop on the second floor, which was where her room was, they took another flight, and then another, up to the top floor.
Steel led her down a few more halls and then opened a door, and they stepped into what had to be his bedroom.
The dark wooden floorboards complemented the black walls.
There was an enormous bed against one wall, its frame made of black metal.
There was an antique roll top desk in a corner, shelves in another, an open door led to a bathroom, and she assumed a walk-in closet of some sort since there were no wardrobes visible in the room.
On the opposite wall to the one with the door they’d just walked through were French doors that opened out onto a balcony.
That was where Steel led her.
They stepped through them, and it was almost like stepping into another world.
The space was large, with an intricate metal railing at the end.
Two sides were part of the roof, making it feel like this little area had been carved out.
There was a huge blanket spread out on the ground, and pillows had been piled about.
Fairy lights were strung up, and the sky had cleared from the earlier snow, making the little lights seem like an extension of the stars.
She didn't need to ask to know he’d set this up just for her.
It was without a doubt the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her, and that it was her captor who had done it was all sorts of twisted.
Only he wasn't really her captor anymore. She might be in his house, but Rose was fairly certain that if she demanded that he let her leave, he’d take her to Prey and let her have some say in how she was protected from her brother.
But she hadn't done that because something kept drawing her to Steel. He awakened parts of her she hadn't allowed herself to acknowledge. When your entire life had been about just surviving each day, it was hard to turn that off.
Hard to let go.
Without giving herself time to second-guess herself, to consider all the ways this was a stupid thing to do, how other people might view her, or what they’d think of her. Rose didn't even give herself time to figure out what she’d think of herself, she just acted.
Throwing herself into Steel’s arms, she trusted him to catch her, and crushed her lips to his. His large hands circled her hips, holding her against him as she kissed him like she was a drowning woman and he was the only source of air to be found.
“Little ladybug,” he murmured against her lips.
“Thank you,” she whispered back before he could reject her. She was pretty certain he wouldn't, but not positive.
“You do crazy things to me,” he admitted. “Things I didn't even know were possible.”
“You do the same to me. I never thought I would want a man to touch me, but I crave yours.”
“Did your brother—”
“No,” she quickly cut him off. “Ridge never touched me like that.
Not sexually. But I've never acknowledged that side of myself.
I thought it was because maybe I just wasn't made to like it, but I was wrong. It was because I was afraid. Afraid to let go, afraid because no one has ever been there to catch me before, afraid because I'm always in control and I don’t know what it looks like to release that hold.”
The thing was, she felt ready.
This whole ordeal had been a wake-up call. She’d fought for her independence, to have a life of her own, but she was wasting it.
No more.
Rose was done hiding, even from herself.
“Take control,” she whispered, nipping at Steel’s bottom lip.
“You don’t know what you're asking for, little ladybug.”
“Actually, I think I do,” she corrected him.
He’d brought her here, tortured her, wrapped his hands around her neck, chased her, threatened to spank her, protected her from his team, shopped for her, cooked for her, shared his past with her, made her origami roses and a sweet little ladybug.
“Let me lose control for a little while. I need to.”
The admission was hard to make because it could be so easily used against her, but somehow, Rose knew Steel wouldn't do that.
A growl was the only warning she got before he’d taken them both down to the ground. Flipping her onto her stomach so she was lying across his legs, he shifted one of his so it pinned her own legs in place.
A curl of cold air caressed her skin as Steel yanked down her jeans and panties enough to bare her backside to the cold night. An answering curl of desire swept through her stomach.
“I warned you, didn't I, little ladybug,” he said as his fingers traced circles on her bottom, around the healing welts.
When she didn't answer, his palm cracked down against her skin, making her yelp, then immediately soothed over the stinging spot.
“Answer me, little ladybug. I warned you, didn't I? What would happen if you caused yourself more pain?”
“Yes,” she squeaked, her body haywire with the warring desires. Part of her wanted to tell him to stop, that she didn't want more pain, but the other part was excited by this. Pain was what she knew, what she understood. Maybe she needed it woven into her pleasure.
“How many do you think is an appropriate punishment?”
“Umm … three?”
His chuckle filled the night. “Three? I don’t think so, little ladybug. Three is for wimps, and you're the strongest woman I've ever met. I think ten sounds more appropriate.”
“Ten?” There was no way she could handle ten. “I can't—”
“You can,” he contradicted as his hand came down again, a little harder this time.
“Your body craves this, doesn’t it, little ladybug?
” Nudging her legs apart a little while keeping them trapped under his, he ran a finger along her center, where her body was weeping for him.
“So wet,” he murmured as he coated his fingers with more of her wetness and spread it over her stinging skin before cracking his palm against her backside once more.
That was three, and he repeated the process, running his fingers through her wetness, teasing her entrance, bumping against her bud, before smearing the evidence of her arousal over her bottom.
Before each smack of his hand, he did that, and by the time he reached nine, her backside was throbbing, tears streaked her cheeks, and she was so turned on that if he didn't give her something more soon she was going to combust.
“One more, little ladybug, you took your punishment so well,” he praised as his hand connected with her skin one last time.
As soon as he delivered that final one, he shifted her in his arms, lifting her up to cradle her against him, her legs still tangled in her jeans, straddling his, his arms locked around her as he caught her tears on his tongue.
“So strong,” he murmured. “So brave, so perfect. You let go so beautifully and took your punishment like such a good girl.”
“Please,” she whimpered, grinding her wet center against his bulge, the stinging on her backside spurring her on, filled with a desperation unlike anything else she’d felt before. “I need more.”