The Proviso (83 page)

“No,” she said shortly. “I resent that law; I resent
most laws that regulate what someone can do with his own property,
and by that I mean his body, too.”

Knox sat back and looked at her for a long time, but
she refused to look at him.

“Abortion?” he asked quietly and she wasn’t
surprised. It was the next logical question, though considering
that what he wanted from her was a child, it had much more impact.
She was tempted to lie, but couldn’t bring herself to voice an
opinion opposite what she truly believed—and if he’d read her, he’d
know this too.

“The child’s rights are protected by the
Constitution,” she muttered, and she hated that she sounded so
sullen.

Knox said nothing for another long while and she
finally looked at him. He was leaning back against his door, his
face propped on his fingertips, his elbow on the door ledge. He
watched her carefully, not a hint of mockery on his face. Other
than that, she couldn’t tell what he thought.

“The argument is that it’s not a human being,” he
finally said. “That it’s just a part of a woman’s body and her
body, being her property, is free to do with as she wishes.”

She snorted. “I don’t think anybody actually
believes that.”

“Yes, some people actually do believe that.”

She looked at him sharply. “Do you?”

“We aren’t talking about my opinion. We’re talking
about yours.”

“Okay,” she said, engaged now, and she turned toward
him, her knee crooked in the seat. She leaned toward him, suddenly
completely dismissing who he was and why she was in his car. “Why
is it that in an abortion clinic, a fetus is being terminated and
in the NICU down the street, a baby of the same gestational age is
given all sorts of heroic treatment to save its life? Where’s the
logic in that? Who decides that one is a person worth saving and
the other’s just a part of the woman’s body and how do they decide
that? The mother decides: A human being or a mass of tissue,
depending on her circumstance. If puppies were terminated that way,
PETA would be all over it. And why is it that in some
jurisdictions, killing a pregnant woman is charged as two murders,
but abortion isn’t a crime? If choice is such an issue, why
couldn’t a woman choose to use birth control?”

“Rape? Incest? That’s not a woman’s choice.”

She drew in a breath and it was a long time before
she admitted, “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to sort that out
in my head yet. I try to think what I’d do and I just— I don’t
know.”

Knox stared at her and she returned it until she
remembered who she was talking to, where, and why. And when she
did, she opened her mouth and snapped, “But it looks like I might
have to start thinking about it, huh? I might have to rethink my
whole position.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond; he simply
turned to back out of the parking space. She noticed he hadn’t put
on his seatbelt, either.

The ride to his home was absolutely silent, which
reminded her of Giselle’s penchant for silence. She had so many
questions for him, left over from when she’d still held him in such
high regard, but wasn’t really interested now. What could he say
that would bring back her opinion of that man who’d touched her in
class and defended her and set her firmly on the path to political
punditry?

Justice began to pay attention to where they were
going once Knox had turned off the highway. The streets that wound
deeper and deeper into his neighborhood were tree-lined and
secluded. He had about an acre of ground at the back corner of a
very old subdivision built when acre plots were the norm, the only
plot on a small street that probably wasn’t even on a map; in fact,
it didn’t even have a street sign. The whole property was bordered
by a high wrought iron fence with the gate across the driveway,
which was closed.

The house was a 1960s-era low brick ranch with a
steeply pitched roof, what she thought was classified as French
provincial. The brick was painted cream, and black shutters flanked
the windows. The big mullioned windows in the front sparkled, their
small beveled diamond panes catching the last rays of the setting
sun through the thicket of trees that bordered the west side of the
property. The foundation of the house was camouflaged by low
yews.

This was not what she would have thought Knox would
choose to live in. She had him figured for a federalist or Georgian
style, but understood that the seemingly nonexistent address would
appeal to someone like Knox.

To the right of the driveway were two well-worn
ruts, which circled around the house and disappeared. It was the
only thing that marred the otherwise flawless turf and she thought
it . . . odd. Just beyond that to the west was a windbreak of trees
that ran from the front to the back of the property. The east
boundary of the property was bordered by old scrub pines.

A gate across the driveway slid open and he drove
into the garage. Once the door began to close behind them, Justice
closed her eyes and sighed in resignation, fear and—something else.
She dropped her head back on the head rest.

Justice felt him touch her neck. She opened her eyes
and turned to him before she realized that he had closed the
distance between them. He kissed her, gently, quietly, before
deepening it. Without thinking about it, she closed her eyes and
laid her hand along the side of his face.

It went on for many moments as he taught her how to
kiss, how to be kissed, how to tease and nip and lick.

Knox drew away from her slowly and she opened her
eyes. Suddenly she flushed hot, ashamed that it had taken nothing
at all for him to make her forget—everything.

“This’d be a whole lot easier on both of us if you
didn’t fight me,” he murmured, his voice husky.

“What else am I supposed to do?” she muttered,
looking at the floor, more angry with herself and her own weakness
than with him. “Why should I make this easy for you?”

“Well,” he said, pulling away from her and opening
his door, “when you put it that way, I see your point.”

He opened her door for her and bustled her into the
house. When he spoke again, that hard edge in his voice was back.
“Here’s the deal, Iustitia. We can eat first or have sex first.
Your choice.”

Justice looked at him for a long time because what
he said and how he’d said it was so jarring. She didn’t know what
to say to that, but she must have waited too long. He stepped
toward her and she backed up a step. He took another step, and
another until he had backed her up against a wall. His body touched
hers as he braced his forearm against the wall and caught her
earlobe with his teeth.

“Or,” he whispered menacingly into her ear, his
finger tracing her collarbone, “you can just forfeit your choice
right here and right now.”

She said nothing. There was no choice. She would
take whatever Knox had to give her and bear the consequences of her
shame later. Her eyes closed when his hand traced lightly down over
her breast and stopped, stayed, his thumb finding her nipple
through her clothes. She sucked in a breath and gulped.

He still nibbled on her ear and he pressed closer to
her, letting her know that whatever her wishes, he would get what
he wanted tonight—and he wouldn’t have to take it by force.

It occurred to her that she was married to him now
and that she had every right to him. While that was a heady
thought, he wasn’t an honorable man and he’d forced her into
this.

You assume too much.

Giselle’s sharp reprimand came back to her; she
hadn’t known what it meant then and she didn’t know now. What she
did know was that taking her freedom, making her a prisoner, was
not
, by any definition, honorable.

“Stop thinking,” he growled in her ear. “I want you
to feel it, feel
me
, feel what I’m doing to you.”

He was right; she had stopped feeling and started
thinking and maybe if she thought of the Supreme Court—

“I’ll talk to you,” he whispered. “I’ll tell you
what I’m doing and how and why, just to keep your brain occupied,
if that’s the only way I can keep you with me—because your IQ
is
going to come with me, even if I have to drag it kicking
and screaming. I’ll fill your mind with
me
until it stops
fighting your body.”

Justice swallowed again. Her palms lay flat on the
wall behind her. Her eyes were closed. She stiffened because he had
read her so easily and that he had such a simple way of
counteracting it.

“You’re mine now. I
own
you.”

Her eyes popped open as she sucked in a deep breath.
She looked at him and snarled, “What did you say?”

“I. Own. You.”

She slapped him across the face, hard, furious that
he would again take her deeply held philosophy and turn it against
her. Her eyes narrowed and she saw his face darken. “Don’t you
ever
mock me like that again,” she hissed, her teeth
grinding together.

Knox’s eyebrow rose and he touched his face where
she’d slapped him. His voice was rough when he finally spoke. “I
told you never to hit me.”

“Hit me back and see how long you live.”

His nostrils flared and his stare matched hers
second for second. She wouldn’t back down and she didn’t feel fear.
He’d imprisoned her and for him to throw that back at her was
vile.

Justice could see that they’d reached a stalemate.
Knox slowly pushed himself away from the wall and turned, taking a
few steps away from her. She had taken two steps away from the wall
when he pounced.

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to
him, crushing her, crushing her breasts, crushing her mouth against
his. Knox’s tongue crushed hers, one hand crushed her buttocks, the
other hand crushed her hair.

Enraged, Justice fought, but she was no match for
his strength. He picked her up, kicking and hissing, and strode
down a hallway into a bedroom, where he threw her on the bed. She
bounced and immediately rolled off to stand on the other side of
the bed, taking deep gulps of air while surreptitiously slipping
her heels off.

“If you want anything from me, you’re going to have
to take it by force.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” he gritted as he ripped off
his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt with lightning speed and took it
off.

“I’ll fight you.”

“At this point, I’m counting on it.”

She really had no way out; she knew it would happen
in the end, but she wasn’t frightened or intimidated. She was livid
and unwilling to give him the satisfaction of winning too easily.
She couldn’t remember ever being this angry in her entire life.

Justice didn’t care that he was Knox Hilliard,
ruthless, untouchable. She didn’t care that he’d trapped her here
by his threats and his far stronger body. She didn’t care that she
would end up underneath him somehow. She just had to make her
point.

You have to walk barefoot through fire on broken
glass.

Justice didn’t remember it so much as feel it well
up inside of her, come alive, give her energy and strength. And she
ran.

She bolted around the end of the bed and made it
past him through the door.

“
Ow! Shit!
”

Whatever he’d done to himself, it gave her enough of
a head start to get out the back door. And she flew.

Justice could run like the wind; she knew this, she
took pride in it. She also knew that there were very few people who
could run as fast as she could, especially if they were built like
quarterbacks and not running backs. She was gambling that Knox
wasn’t one of those few people.

She lost.

He tackled her, wrapped his arms around her waist
and took her down into the soft grass. He twisted to land first,
and she fell on top of him, both of them rolling and rolling. Then,
rolling her over before she could do anything else, he was braced
over her, most of his weight pinning her to the ground. His chest
heaved.

She said nothing, because she, too, was winded and
she gasped for breath; it was made more difficult by his weight on
top of her.

Neither of them spoke as they caught their breath,
but Justice wouldn’t look away from him first. It was too
important. Her jaw gritted and her eyes narrowed. Her adrenaline
was pumping hot and swift through her body, and she was not going
to back down.

“You’re an evil son of a
bitch
.”

“And you want me anyway.”

Knox kissed her then, hard. She was caught between
wanting to fight him and wanting to get sucked into his tornado. If
he spoke to her—

“I can kiss you till you come,” he panted when he
broke off the kiss and let his head drop so that his mouth was
again at her ear. “I can stroke you till you scream. I can suck
your nipples until you beg me for more. I can talk to you until all
you can think about is when I’m going to slide inside you. You can
run from me, Iustitia, but if it means the difference between
making love to you and not, I’ll catch you every time.”

Her brain was engaged and she nearly sobbed
with—relief? Anger? What was that feeling? He
had
caught
her, and he’d used her only weapons, philosophy and intellect,
against her. Her name had even betrayed her. Her body she could
command, if not control, but once she was fully engaged—

And he wanted her. As much as she’d wanted him for
the last three years.

Knox rose to his feet then and pulled her up to him
harshly, again holding her tight and kissing her with force. She
returned his kiss with equal force, but every time she thought
she’d had enough of this, he talked to her, told her what he’d do
to her, kept her from thinking about anything but him. He had her
dress off of her before she’d realized he had begun.

“I’m going to take your bra off,” he whispered, hot,
when she was beginning to get some control, “and I’m going to take
your panties off, and I’m going to lay you back down in the grass
and you’re going to wrap your legs around me. You’re going to feel
every inch of me, skin-to-skin.”