Free Hidden Heart (Windy City #1) by Measha Stone

into her pockets. A rose blush settled on her cheeks.
    “I worried you ran away again.” He kissed her on a cheek and picked up the crop. “Are you curious about this?” He touched the flapper to her nose.
    She shook her head and took a step back.
    One of his eyebrows rose at her reaction. “Did you hate it last night?” Had she rethought the scene after the arousal had worn off?
    “No,” she admitted, taking another step back.
    “Are you ashamed you liked it?” He toyed with the crop in his hands.
    “No.” She shrugged. Her eyes darted from the crop to the window behind him, looking for a safe place to put herself.
    “That’s one. I’ll give you one more chance to be honest with me.” He felt his jaw tighten. “Are you ashamed of what we did last night?”
    “Not ashamed.” She scratched the back of her elbow, her eyes on the coffee table.
    “Then what?” He tapped the crop against his upturned palm.
    Her eyes fixated on the leather rod. “What we did was fine. I liked it.” Another shrug.
    “And that’s a bad thing.” He slapped the crop against his palm. The sound hung between them.
    “Stop putting words in my mouth,” she demanded with balled up fists and a stomp of her right foot.
    He tilted his head and stared her down like the adversary she was making herself. “Do you think that stomping and yelling is the way we should handle this?” He wasn’t curious; it was a warning.
    “You keep insisting you know my feelings.”
    “You keep insisting you don’t have any.” He threw back. “Tell me, and I’ll stop assuming.” He crossed his arms over his chest, still holding the crop in his hand.
    “I don’t understand why I liked it. I shouldn’t have liked it.” She took a deep breath.
    “Tell me something, Jessica. When I instruct you and you obey, what does that feel like to you?” He leaned against the arm of the couch.
    Her eyelids drooped, her fists remained tight, and she chewed her inner lip. “I was thinking we could have breakfast.” Her eyes moved again, still not falling on him.
    “That’s two. One more and you’ll get ten with my belt.” His tone was unyielding, his jaw tight. He could see with the shift in her stance she was going to defy him, to push him. He hoped he read her signals wrong. His hope for her legs wrapped around his waist while he sunk his dick into her began to fade from his mind.
    “Your belt? One difference of opinion and you reach for your belt?” She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her hips toward him.
    “Stop fighting me. Answer the question, and we can go into the kitchen and have breakfast.” He blocked her attempt to derail the conversation.
    “See, now I really don’t want to talk about it.” She raised her chin in defiance.
    There would be no morning sex.
    “Jessica, go into the bedroom, remove your pants, and bend over the bed. Keep your hands in front of you.” His voice sounded flat. He stood from the couch and stepped out of the way in order for her move around him.
    She didn’t move.
    “That would be now, Jessica. Go.” He nodded toward the bedroom, as fear began to flow into her expression. “Go.” He held firm.
    “I don’t see—”
    “Let me put it this way. You have two choices.” He uncrossed his arms and squared his shoulders to her. “You either do as you’re told—like you agreed when we began this—or you leave. Punishments are part of the deal. You broke a rule. You are holding back.” His heart pounded in his chest; he could hear it in his ears. He held back his own fear that she would choose the second option and be gone from him.
    “I’ll answer you.” She dropped her hands to her sides and relaxed her shoulders. Her eyes met his. She looked hopeful, and he almost hated to squash it.
    “We will talk after your spanking. Now go to the bedroom, or I’ll have to add more to your punishment.” He would not be moved from his decision; she would need to learn that about him. Once he