THE CONTROL: An Arranged Marriage Romance, Elena Monroe [have you read this book .txt] 📗

time we were this close, it felt like a brush with death and a promise to be reborn as something stronger.

Bowen was a brush of death and nothing felt better.

“I don’t—what if I don’t want it to stay imaginative?” I was going to decline originally, but I stopped myself from lying. I wanted to hit someone; I wanted to kill them and anyone who threatened my happiness.

He bit down on the wraps, holding them there with his teeth, while his hands picked mine up and smoothed them flat between us. I watched his still wrapped hands carefully spotting the small spots of blood over his knuckles bleeding through.

There was this look in his eye that knew how much I wanted nothing more than to protect our happiness. Killing whatever got in our way, the same way he was prepared to do.

His fingers slowly laced through mine with the wrap, and I could feel his strength transferring over to me. I stood up straighter, taller, and all the empowerment spread through me like warmth.

I felt the taste of power for once in my life, and I was in control.

“I trust you to protect me, Bowey.” My voice was dull, slipping out as barely a whisper. I used to be the strong one between us. Always saving him in the midst of chaos and now he was saving me.

It felt appropriate to pay homage to that before I became strong again.

“No one will protect you like you can protect yourself, Eve. It’ll never be satisfying if you don’t quiet your demons yourself.” Finishing my other hand’s wraps, I felt my thighs rub together softly trying to simmer down the arousal I felt.

Every layer of Bowen was more beautiful, more complicated, and I was bewildered to discover just how much more I could love him.

Stepping behind me, I felt his hands square my hips, his fingers sinking into my hot skin fueled by how much I was turned on as he pushed me towards the bag hanging from the ceiling.

His fingers danced up my sides until I felt him guide my arms up to protect my face, and my fists closed under his hands. I could feel the wraps against my delicate skin trying to hold mine tight, and I had to swallow down the desperate need for him to fuck me on the bench of this room.

His lips found the shell of my ear, whispering so I could only hear, licking parts of me only he touched. “Now turn over your fist and jab, Evey.”

Pushing my fist into the bag guided by his, I felt this exhale bloom in my lungs, a kind of strength that I used to have reappearing, and the bag made a good doppelgänger for Elias. The sound of my wrapped knuckles filled the room with a denseness I imagined as bones cracking instead.

His hands moved from my fists down to my hips, holding them square against my movements, and his crotched pressed against my ass. He moved right along with me like a shadow even though I was so still all I heard was the throbbing between my legs pulsing for me to pay attention.

“Now use your left fist, same idea, only come from below.” It sounded dirtier than he meant it to until I felt exactly how hard he was when his length pushed between my ass cheeks only distracting me more.

I absorbed his words like a drug addict, I wanted more power and each punch seemed to be the key. The quicker I showed my strength the quicker I could break for him.

Landing a sequence of punches quickly, I felt my lungs burn along with my arms when I dropped my hands to double over, pushing against him even more. His hand smoothed up my spine, comforting me and supporting my strength.

“You have to build up endurance first.”

I felt like he was daring me to keep up but not at these skills. He was daring me to build endurance for him.

Just as I stood up tall and managed to twist around to face him, his chest pressed into mine. Taking a big step towards me, he pressed my spine into the bag and plied my arms up until his grasp held up my wrists against the leather above my head.

I tried to gulp down new air unsuccessfully as our sweaty bodies pushed flush together, and our lips so close I felt the heat between my legs only getting worse. I watched his eyes as he followed a bead of sweat I felt running down my neck, and leaning forward, he slowly licked it away before leaving a kiss behind my ear.

He was so close to burning against the fire he started that I didn’t dare move.

“What does trauma-free look like?” My voice was barely a whisper, and I wanted to take it all back. I wanted to eat my words and the trauma right along with it for potentially ruining this moment.

The trauma I was still keeping from Bowen.

Every time Elias would stand outside my shower, watch me sleep beside me in my bed, choose clothes for me and watch me dress, shove his fingers between my legs under the table at dinner, strip search me every time I ran away just to get caught, every single time he felt me up when no one was around.

I was just as tragic as Bowen, only weaker because I did nothing about it.

I wanted to be as pristine as Denmark made me feel because now I understood why they forced me to be that person. If I was that person I wouldn’t feel like such a fraud, a stain.

“When we were kids, but I’m better for you now, Evey. I can handle whatever you went through. I’m stronger than when your butterfly died.” His hot breath soaked