My Love Forgive by Anna Antonia Page A

above the tub before deciding on the vanilla scent.
    Several minutes passed as I watched Damian then choose from an assortment of bath fripperies. He picked up several loofahs, inspecting each one before setting it aside in favor of another. Damian did the same with the bath sponges. Once satisfied with his choices he moved onto the gels, shampoos, and scrubs.
    He’s still so focused on the details. And once again he’s blocking me out.
    When I shifted my position Damian immediately turned away from his intent perusal, grabbed me by the arm, and swatted my backside. Hard. “I told you to stay right there.” He waited until I grudgingly nodded before returning back to his task.
    I took odd comfort in the stinging burn. The pain made sense of our disordered patterns. Anything was better than his indifference, than his complete lack of care about me and my needs.
    I got more upset about Damian eating my food than kidnapping me and keeping me here against my will. What does that say about how I really see this? Is Damian right? Is it really my pride that’s hurt more than anything?
    Does that mean I’d actually stay here like this otherwise?
    I didn’t have to wonder. I knew the answer. If this had happened any other night I’d be happily prancing around, imagining myself to be Damian’s slave and how I’d work very hard to please my taciturn master.
    What a stupid girl I’d been. This wasn’t a fantasy. This was real. This was what happened to girls who thought that submission was something that could be taken back on a whim.
    “Lift up your arms.”
    I obeyed. I was so, so tired of fighting him.
    Damian took the sweater off in one smooth pull. His fingers unclasped my bra, leaving me to wonder how he was going to remove my jeans.
    The answer came in the form of dangerously sharp scissors pulled from a drawer.
    “Do you know why I wanted you to stay still, little girl? It’s because of what I’m going to do now.” Damian held the half-open scissors in front of my nose. “If you move, even the slightest, these are going to cut you. Do. Not. Move. Understand?”
    “Yes, Damian,” I bleated, seemingly incapable of doing anything other than obeying now that the questions nipped at the heels of my outrage as fatigue dragged me down.
    He bent down on one knee, reached for my waistband, and slid the scissors down until it rested against my hip.
    Slice.
    The slick sound reminded me of cutting into construction paper. Giddy fascination infected me with each controlled pass.
    Slice.
    Damian finished with my right leg before repeating the process on the other side. My entire world shrank to studying him with fanatical intent. Damian rarely frowned, preferring to keep his emotions and thoughts from betraying him in so gauche a manner. Subtle cues were my guide to the precious sanctum of his true thoughts.
    Slice.
    Eyes narrowed in concentration, their gray and amber as hard and bright as the metal in his hand, lured me to interpret what I saw.
    Concern, determination, and doubt flashed in kaleidoscopic resoluteness. Hurt disrupted the controlled chaos, damaging the patterns of his adoration for me. Damian wasn’t as unmoved to my spiteful declaration as I had thought.
    Slice.
    “Damian.”
    “Ssh.”
    I ignored his command and said, “I’m too tired to fight you right now. I’m calling a truce.” I then leaned into the hypnotic blade just as it reached my knee.
    “Damnit! Didn’t I tell you to hold still?”
    I held my breath, giving into the contradictory sensations of pain and relief firing off throughout my body. Instinct to touch the wound curled my fingers into claws. I forced myself to accept the burning agony of split flesh in punishment.
    I’m sorry, Damian. I shouldn’t have said I hated you. I don’t hate you. I hate what you’ve done right now, but I could never hate you. I don’t how to tell you that yet so this is all I can do.
    The scissors clattered into a corner of the bathroom. Damian split