Dominated

Jacqueline hurried toward a door on the other side of the room--probably a bathroom she could hide in for a while--opened it, and slipped inside. She tugged the elbow-length mini jacket back from her shoulder. Eyes wide, she jerked the collar back over her shoulder when she saw the room wasn't the bathroom she'd expected. Black cloth draped the walls, and the spicy scent she had smelled earlier became stronger. The aroma was almost erotic. A man sat behind a desk in a high-backed chair in the center of the room, a desk lamp the only light. She jumped.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize--"

The man looked up from his desk. "No, you will stay."

His matter-of-fact tone rankled her. She had never been one to take orders. Not since John. She'd been forced to do as he wanted, behave as he wanted. Everything she did was approved or denied by his decree. He'd taken so much of her, she'd become tough to protect herself from being used that way again. The only place he let her have her say was in the bedroom. He'd been almost a kitten in there. "What did you say?"

"You heard me." He set his pen next to the ledger he had been writing in. "You will stay. I want to talk to you."

"Don't tell me what to do." Holding her whip tight, she turned for the handle. "I'm leaving."

"Stop." His voice filled with command as he spoke the word.

She froze, fingers on the knob, prickles running over her skin at his tone. Something on a primal level deep inside her responded to his command. His order appealed to a part of her that must have lain dormant for years. A part she hadn't known existed. A part which longed to surrender control, but only for a moment.