“She was taking care of me while she was living through a nightmare, Asa,” I seethed through clenched teeth. “She was taking care of me, and I was so caught up in my own shit that I didn’t even notice that anything was wrong with her.”

His face softened and his voice lowered as we came to the cajoling portion that ended each of our arguments.

“Sugar, you can’t keep beating yourself up over that shit.” He came toward me, putting his hands on each side of my face. “There was nothing you could have done and it’s over now.”

“Yeah, well, I’d feel a whole lot better if I could return the favor for a while without you on my ass all the time,” I answered, trying to turn my face away from him.

His hands tightened on my head and he lowered his face to mine, his jaw clenching. “How am I supposed to keep you safe when you’re hundreds of miles away from me?”

He didn’t expect an answer, because he kissed me punishingly, not allowing me to pull away.

“You can’t keep putting this off, Callie.” He kissed me again, “It’s one thing after another.”

I bit him in frustration the next time he pressed his lips to mine, causing him to drop his hands from my head.

“You want an angry fuck, Callie?” he asked me, nostrils flaring as he took a step back. “’Cause I can give it to you. I’m done with your procrastination bullshit.”

“Fuck you,” I sneered, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “It’s all about you, right? The whole world revolves around Grease.”

I knew what I was doing. The anger, guilt, and frustration over our situation had me snapping at everyone I came in contact with, and I felt myself slipping into the same building resentment that had plagued me for months. I hated the club and everything it represented, but I was in the untenable position of loving one of its members. I’d somehow become a fighter, but there was nothing for me to fight against.

I needed him to snap me out of it before I ruined everything.

His eyes closed into slits, his chest heaving, and I froze for a moment, thinking I’d gone too far. Then suddenly, without any warning, he bent at the waist and shoved his shoulder into my belly before standing straight so I was hanging down his back.

I pounded against anything I could reach as I screeched, but he ignored me as he calmly made sure the door was locked before walking us into the bedroom. His lack of concern with my fit made me even angrier, so I pulled up his shirt and leather vest to dig my nails into his back in frustration.

“Knock it off, Calliope!” he growled at me, turning his head to bite my thigh as his hand slapped my ass hard.

He tossed me onto the bed and I scrambled off, expecting him to catch me at any moment, but he didn’t. Instead, he stood in front of the door, my only means of escape, and slowly started undressing.

“You gonna make this easy and get undressed?” he asked in a bored tone that had my stomach turning in uncertainty. “Didn’t think so.”

I stood at the opposite side of the bed, watching him like a cornered animal, as I rethought my approach. I wasn’t feeling fierce anymore. The only thing I could feel was a nervousness that didn’t have anything to do with physical harm. What if I was too much? What if he decided that he didn’t need my shit anymore and left me? The old fear of being too needy rose up until I felt tears stinging my nose.

“Come here, Sugar,” he called softly.

I shook my head and backed into the wall, practically hyperventilating. I wanted to go to him, be accommodating and sweet instead of hissing and scratching, but I didn’t know how to change my emotions. My heart was still racing with a frustration that made me want to scream just to let some of it out.

“I need to come get you, Callie?”

He wasn’t interested in a stand-off because he started toward me, his steps measured but never faltering. When he reached me, I pushed at him, making low noises in my throat, but he stripped me anyway until I was standing naked with hands fisted.

“I love you,” he told me gently as he pulled me toward the bed and sat down.

He pulled me between his knees and kissed me sweetly, rubbing his thumbs against my cheekbones until I melted against him. Then he wrapped one leg around both of mine and pushed me face-first on the bed so I was bent over one thigh, his hand heavy on the small of my back.

Smack.

I screamed, pissed that I’d been tricked into compliance.

“You call me Asa,” he rumbled, smacking my ass again. “Though you know that, so I’m guessing this is what you were angling for.” Smack. Smack.

“Get off me!” I bellowed, pushing as hard as I could with my arms but getting nowhere.

He rubbed my sore cheeks for a moment, quiet, and then started the spanking again.

“You need me to spank your ass?” Smack. “You can just fuckin’ ask for it.”

“I can’t.”

He paused for a moment, quiet.

“Why can’t you ask for what you need?”

He waited for me to answer, then sighed deeply when I didn’t, smacking me again.

“Answer me.”

Smack.

“Because it’s not the same,” I sobbed, pulling my arms under me so I could cover my face with my hands. “I want you to be as mad as me! I want you to be frustrated! I’m afraid you’re going to leave me if you aren’t!”

“Sweetheart,” he whispered tenderly, letting go of my back so he could rub it gently.