Two seconds pass.
Then I move.
She doesn’t even have time to react before I pull the duvet off her, one arm under her knees, the other around her back. She lets out a soft gasp, half-surprised, half-indignant, as I lift her off the mattress like she weighs nothing.
“Hayden—”
“Shut up.”
Her hands press against my chest, instinctively, not really resisting, more like a reflex. She’s glaring at me, but her legs are already curled in close, as if she doesn’t actually want to fight it.
“This isn’t very mature,” she snaps.
“No,” I say, carrying her down the hall. “But it’s what I want.”
She wriggles slightly. “Put me down.”
“Not a chance.”
“You’re being—”
“Exactly who I always am.”
She falls silent. Not because she’s lost, but because she knows I’m not bluffing.
We pass two guest rooms and turn down the hallway toward the primary. I push the door open with my shoulder and walk straight to the bed, ours.
I don’t drop her. I set her down like she’s breakable, even though we both know she isn’t. She stays propped up on her elbows, still in my shirt, her hair a mess, her mouth tight.
I stand over her for a second, looking down.
“You don’t go back to that room,” I say. “Not again.”
She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t argue either.
“I don’t care if you’re mad. I don’t care if I deserve it. But you sleep here.”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine. “Because this is about control, right?”
“No,” I say. “Because this is aboutyou.And you belong inmybed.”
She exhales slowly. The tension in her shoulders shifts slightly. Not gone, but cracked.
I step back, peel off my shirt, and toss it to the side. Then sit on the edge of the bed, facing her. The shirt has ridden up, and I can see her glossy pink pussy lips, as her legs are slightly open. A bratanda tease.
“You want to be angry?” I say. “Be angry. But be angry here.”
She’s still watching me, her jaw set, her eyes locked, her hands clenched into fists against the sheets as if she’s holding something in.
Suddenly, she’s on me, arms around my neck, legs moving to straddle me, mouth crashing toward mine like she’s going to either kiss me or bite me.
I catch her mid-motion.
One hand at her hip, the other at her throat.
I push her back down into the bed, fast, rough. Reminding her who she’s dealing with.
Her back hits the mattress. I follow her down, hand still at her throat, thumb against her pulse. I hook it under the necklace of large emeralds resting there, pulling her up a bit by it and making her gasp.
