If I forfeit, he wins. If I give myself to him, he wins.
"What's it going to be, love?" His voice is silk and stone, patient but unyielding. “Are you saying no?”
“No… I’m not saying no.”
The restaurant flashes through my mind. And I think of Mom. How the hell could I tell her I lost everything in a game of riddles and didn’t take the one chance I had left to save us?
But there’s another reason I don’t want to cross one more line with Knox Vale.
There’s a part of me that remembers how it felt when he touched me at the party, how my body responded despite my mind's protests. That part of me is curious about what it would be like to surrender completely to someone like him. The man who holds all the cards and orchestrated our every move to lead to this moment.
“Okay. I’ll do it.” God, I just agreed. I swallow hard and try again. "I’m not doing anything else with you. I’m not a whore.”
“I don’t deal with whores. I don’t need to.”
“Whatever.” I’m so sick of his bullshit and holier-than-thou arrogance. “I mean it I’m not doing anything else with you. You won’t force me.”
When he leans in again, I shrink. "There is no forcing here, Isla. You’re free to walk out that door. But just for the record, I don’t think I have to force you to do anything else with me… soon enough, you’ll beg me.”
I gasp, my skin blazing. “I will never beg?—”
He swoops down and claims my lips in a kiss that steals the last of my breath.
And my mind.
The world narrows to the press of his mouth and the dark, dominant taste of him. My pulse stumbles, then races, like my body’s trying to keep up with the hunger behind his lips.
His mouth moves against mine with the same ruthless precision he uses in everything, but at the same time, it’s like he’s testing how long he can make me tremble before I break.
By the time he deepens the kiss, my body’s already given up pretending I’m not lost.
His hand slides up the side of my neck, anchoring me in place, and every thought that isn’t him disintegrates. My hands find his chest, and the second I feel his heartbeat beneath my palms, I forget why I wanted to resist.
Then he slows the kiss, and my awareness creeps back in.
I go still.
What in the hell is happening?
The only time my lips shouldevermeet his is in front of a camera. Or someone who needs to believe we’re a real couple. Not like this. Behind closed doors when it’s just us.
As if he can read my thoughts, Knox inches away, but not too far. His lips are still ghosting over mine.
“The…cameras… aren’t here,” I manage.
“Fuck the cameras. There were no cameras when I kissed you at the club.” He presses his forehead to mine briefly and grins. “This is us. Now, strip for me, Isla, and give me what I want.”
I blink several times, trying to make sense of what’s happening. This has to be a dream. But it’s not. And what he wants is me.
I said I would do this. So, I’m doing it. There's no going back now.
I’m doing it for whatever the reason. Not losing the restaurant, and…for me.
With a shaky breath, I slowly unzip my dress. The fabric loosens, and I pull it over my head, leaving me exposed and vulnerable with my heart galloping inside my chest.
I’m in my bra, panties, and the wretched pair of army boots that’s actually hurting my feet, but I already feel naked.
Knox’s gaze never leaves me. His eyes drift over my skin, watching every movement I make. I don’t know if I’m trembling from the chill in the air or the heat of his stare.
