Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
R onan
She was quiet now.
The sass, the fire, the stubborn refusal to back down—all of it was gone, replaced by a silence that felt heavier than anything she’d said earlier. She sat in the backseat, completely naked with her arms crossed over her chest, her face turned toward the window like she was trying to pretend I wasn’t there.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d looked over my knee—bare, vulnerable, with that same fire in her eyes even as her tears spilled over. She’d fought me at first, of course she had, but when it all came crashing down, when she’d finally broken, it had been… more than I could have ever imagined.
Her bright red ass quivering over my knee had been an absolute vision, one I would stroke my cock to for the rest of my days. I’d pinned her there easily. She’d fought me and it gave me a deep sense of satisfaction to overpower her, knowing that she was realizing just how deep she’d gone by calling me in the first place.
She’d kicked and I’d seen between those pretty thighs. She’d been soaking wet, and I couldn’t wait to explore more of that with her. Would she get as wet when I took my belt to her bare cheeks? Would she get even wetter?
I grinned as I thought about my palm striking her naked backside. My hand stung, but I didn’t regret a single second of it. She’d earned that punishment and then some. I could still see the defiance in her face when she’d dared to ask if I was serious, like I’d go easy on her just because she was my little sister’s best friend. As if her sassy mouth and wide eyes had any chance of softening me.
She didn’t know me. Not really.
But she would.
I let out a slow breath, my hands steady on the wheel as the quiet hum of the car filled the space between us.
Fixing this was going to be a monumental thorn in my side. Marco Benedetti wasn’t just another name on my list—he was dangerous, connected, and vindictive as hell. The kind of man who wouldn’t stop until he felt he’d restored his bruised ego.
But just maybe… it would be worth it.
I tightened my grip on the wheel, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth as I glanced back at her in the rearview mirror.
Maybe, in some small way, she belonged to me now.
The thought hit me harder than I expected, sending a flicker of something unfamiliar through my chest. Possessiveness wasn’t new to me—I’d felt it a thousand times before, over people, places, things I considered mine. But this was different.
She was Leena’s best friend, a girl I’d spent years trying to keep at arm’s length. And yet, as I saw the faint reflection of her turned-away tear-streaked face, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight had changed something.
I’d punished her, and in doing so, I’d claimed a piece of her. Whether she realized it or not, she’d crossed a line the second she called me for help. She’d handed herself over to me on a silver platter, and I wasn’t the kind of man to let go easily.
She deserved everything she’d gotten. Every stinging smack, the shame, the tears, everything she still had coming—all of it. And part of me wanted to go further, to push her until there was nothing left of that defiance, only a quiet understanding of exactly who she was dealing with.
But another part of me—the part I didn’t like to acknowledge—wanted to pull her into my arms and tell her it would be okay. That I’d fix this, clean up the mess she’d made, and make sure no one else ever touched her again.
That I’d take care of her.
I pushed the thought away, scowling at myself as I turned onto a quieter street. She didn’t need comfort. She needed to learn that her actions had consequences, and I wouldn’t always be there to fix it.
And I needed to figure out how the hell I was going to deal with Benedetti without turning this into an all-out war.
“Do you want to talk?” I asked finally, my voice cutting through the quiet.
Kiera shifted slightly, but she didn’t look at me.
“No,” she said, her tone clipped and tight.
I chuckled softly, shaking my head.
She didn’t respond, but the way her shoulders tensed told me I’d hit a nerve.
Good.
Because as much as I enjoyed breaking that fire, part of me didn’t want it gone completely. I didn’t want her to lose that spark, that bite that made her so damn infuriating—and so damn irresistible.
“You’ll thank me someday,” I said, my tone lighter now, almost teasing.
Her head snapped toward me, her glare cutting like a blade.
“Not a chance in hell,” she snapped.
I laughed again, the sound low and rough. “We’ll see, love. We’ll see.”
The rest of the ride passed in silence, but my mind was still racing. I had a lot of work to do, a lot of strings to pull and threats to make to clean up her mess. But as I glanced at her reflection in the mirror one last time, I knew one thing for certain.
She might be a pain in the ass, but she was my pain in the ass now.
And God help me, I didn’t hate the sound of that.