“You don’t get to test me,” I say, my voice trembling with rage. “You don’t get to play with my fucking emotions.”
Ghost doesn’t flinch at my outburst. He doesn’t even blink. His eyes, bright and unrelenting, never leave mine. Instead of backing off, he gets closer, his body a wall of tension, his voice a low, dangerous drawl.
“If that’s true, then why did I do it?”
I lift my chin. “You want to know if I’ll stay, if I’ll fight for this—whatever this is between us.”
Ghost’s lips curl into something between a smile and a snarl, his breath warm against my face as he leans even closer, the bars barely keeping us apart. “And what’s the verdict?” he asks. “Are you going to stay and admit that you feel something for me? Or are you going to run like you always do?”
“Fuck you, Ghost.”
I spin on my heel and barely take a step before a hand shoots out through the bars, gripping my throat with brutal precision. With great force, he jerks me toward him, slamming my back against the cold, unyielding metal. The air leaves my lungs in arush, and for a moment, all I can focus on is the searing pressure of his fingers around my throat.
His face is mere inches from mine as he tightens his grip, squeezing until I gasp from pain. “Say it again,” he growls, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrates through my body. “Say it, Geneva. I fucking dare you.”
My pulse hammers against his palm. The heat of his body bleeds through the steel bars separating us, seeping into my back. None of that stops my anger from surging to the forefront and drowning out the instinct to be afraid.
“Fuck you,” I say on a wheeze.
“Thank you for the invitation, love.”
Ghost snakes his free hand under my shirt, his palm hot against my stomach, his touch firm. My skin comes to life when he cups my breast, tugging at the nipple, and I press my lips together to keep from moaning. It’s increasingly harder to act unaffected when his fingers expertly tease my sensitive skin, squeezing gently, and then more firmly, as if testing my reactions.
Ghost loosens his hold on my throat just enough for me to draw a shallow breath. Then he tightens it again, causing a fresh wave of adrenaline to sweep through me. The heat he ignited with his touch coils low in my stomach, a betrayal of my own traitorous desires.
“Let go of me,” I wheeze.
When he doesn’t listen, I reach up with both hands and yank on his wrist. It’s like trying to move steel. In response, he grips my throat harder.
His breath is warm against my cheek. “You came to me. Now you’ll comeforme.”
I rail against his hold, unable to admit how much I want his touch. How much I want him. My struggle results in me gasping,and my hair coming loose from its messy bun. Ghost gently runs his fingers through the strands, with the same hand that he used to murder someone last night.
“You’re so fucking beautiful it kills me,” he whispers, his voice a mixture of anger and awe.
Ghost shoves his hand under the hem of my skirt before he circles the entrance of my pussy, his fingers coming away drenched. Then he brings them to my clit, stroking me slowly, over and over.
I can’t breathe and my wild thrashing subsides. Immediately, he releases his grip on my throat, and the air rushes into my lungs. My knees buckle, but Ghost is there, holding me up by the throat, his other hand gripping my pussy.
“You’re a fucking mess, aren’t you, Doc?”
I shake my head in what looks like a silent plea for him to stop, but it’s really me unable to form coherent words. And because I’m enjoying what he’s doing to me. I just won’t admit it.
“I love watching you fight me,” he says. “It’s fucking delicious to watch.”
“You’re sick.”
“And you’re wet.”
He thrusts a finger inside my pussy, and my body tightens at the sensual invasion. When he inserts two more, I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my lips. He uses his thumb to circle my clit, while curling his fingers inside me, and I sag in his embrace, unable to take what he’s doing to me.
And he doesn’t stop.
Ghost keeps fucking me with his fingers, the strokes hard and fast. I bite my lip to keep from crying out. His fingers are relentless, stroking and demanding, driving me higher and higher. I’m getting close.
“Stop,” I say, the lie a mere whisper.
Ghost chuckles. “Your pussy is saying otherwise, Geneva.”
