Submission is Not My Style novel Chapter 72

We walk back to the house in silence, the cold night air wrapping around us as we move along the moonlit path. I had asked Jack if we could skip the carriage–1 needed the fresh air, something to clear the chaos in my head. He didn’t ask questions, just nodded and walked beside me. 

By the time we reach the house, my limbs are heavy with exhaustion. I don’t wait for him to open the door–1 push it open myself, step inside, and head straight to the bedroom. 

The moment lenter, I begin kicking off my heels. The dress feels suffocating and I reach behind me, fingers fumbling with the zipper as I start to peef it of 

But halfway through tugging it down my hips, I feel it–that unmistakable sensation of eyes burning into my back, I pause, frown, and glance over my shoulder, only to blink in disbelief. 

“What the hell, Jack?” 1 sputter, yanking the dress back up–even though I know it’s already too late. 

“What?” he says innocently, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Can’t you see I’m undressing?” 

He grins–full–blown and devilish. “Exactly, would be a shame to miss the show.” 

My jaw drops as my cheeks flood with heat. “Get out, you pervert!” 

“This is my room too, sweetheart.” 

1 gape at him. “Wait–what do you mean your room?” 

Jack shrugs off his jacket, tossing it over a chair, and begins unbuttoning his shirt like this is the most normal thing in the world. 

“There’s only one bedroom in the entire house, Kali.” 

“What?!” I nearly trip on the damn dress. “Didn’t you plan for–children’s rooms or something? You know, with your future mate?” 

“I didn’t,” he says smoothly. “I figured I’d enjoy my mate first before we start popping out pups.” His gaze flickers down my body, hot and teasing. “But now that you’ve brought it up, I don’t mind practicing the act of making them.” He winks. 

“Jack!” I squeal, grabbing the nearest object–a pillow–and hurling it at him. 

He catches it mid–air, laughing like this is the best entertainment he’s had all week. 

Mortified, I rush to the drawer Jasmine had filled earlier and yank out a soft cotton top and matching shorts. I’dart into the bathroom and slam the door behind me, locking it with a shaky hand. My heart is racing as I quickly change, muttering curses under my breath. 

When I finally emerge, I nearly drop dead. 

Jack is shirtless, sprawled across the bed like some Greek god drunk on confidence. His muscles flex with every slow breath, golden skin glowing under the dim light. I try not to look. I fail. And the way his arm is tucked behind his head like he’s posing for a magazine doesn’t help. 

I just stand there awkwardly, clutching the hem of my shirt. 

He pats the empty space beside him. “Come on, I don’t bite… unless you want me to.” 

I roll my eyes but stay rooted in place. I know he bites hard. 

“This isn’t the time to act shy. We’ve done worse, remember?” 

69% 

I glance over. His jaw is clenched so tightly I can see the muscle ticking. It’s like he’s holding back the urge to snap something–or someone–in hall. 

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