I married Charlotte to guard her nephew and the ranch, but her defiant tongue and the sway of her hips pull at the fear I bury deep. Every order I give only sharpens my need to make her yield.

The storm hammers the parlor windows as my hands close over hers on the open ledger. Her skin cools once I bare her, and that birthmark high on her thigh will darken under my gaze. She dreads the discipline that will force her surrender. I dread the moment she sees how much I need to claim her without mercy. Neither of us moves.