Submitting to My Ex's Dad novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: Nine O'Clock

I stood outside 1412 for six minutes before I used the key card.

It was 8:54 on Saturday night.

My mother had taken my father back to their hotel with a bottle of wine.

Skye had been told I was meeting a friend, and she had looked at my face and said, "Is the friend hot?"

I hadn't answered, and she'd said, "Oh my God."

The door opened before I touched the handle.

Benedict stood there in shirtsleeves, with the top two buttons undone and his cuffs rolled back over strong forearms.

He did not say hello.

He looked at me from my shoes up to my eyes and stepped aside.

"You came," he said.

"I came to say something first."

"Then say it."

"This is the worst idea I have ever had."

"And?"

"And I haven't been able to think of anything else all day."

The corner of his mouth moved.

"Come in, Hallie."

I walked past him into the room, and the door closed.

This time there were no pretenses.

I put my purse down on the chair and turned around.

He crossed the carpet, took my face in both hands, and kissed me so deeply that my knees went.

He tasted like whiskey and mint.

His hands slid down my back and gripped my ass through my skirt.

He lifted me against him until I felt exactly how much he had been thinking about me too.

"Take it off," he said, when he let me breathe. "All of it. Slowly."

"You're giving orders."

"I am."

"Tell me what happens if I don't follow them."

"Nothing," Benedict said. "You'd just go home wondering."

I laughed, a shaky sound.

Then I took off my sweater.

I unzipped my skirt and let it fall.

I unhooked my bra, and I slid my underwear down my thighs.

I stood in front of him in the lamplight with my arms at my sides.

He walked around me once, slowly.

"Beautiful," he said, close behind me.

His fingertips traced down the center of my back.

"I'm going to tie your hands," he said.

"Yes. Do it."

He pulled a navy silk tie from the pocket of the jacket on the chair.

He stood behind me and drew my wrists together behind my back.

He wound the silk twice around them and tied it, firm but not tight.

I tested it.

It held.

That made my heart pound in a way that I didn't have a word for.

"Now walk," he said.

He steered me by the shoulders across the room to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Chicago spread out below us, black lake, gold streets, the lit tower of the Hancock.

He pressed me forward until my breasts touched the cold glass and my breath fogged a patch on it.

"Anyone could see you," he said. "Fourteen floors up. Nobody will."

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