"You cannot fuck me into seeing things your way!"
"Yeah? Watch me."
Chapter Eight
Austin
Serena fights like hell as I storm across her living room. Not that it matters. She may be untamable, but she's not stronger than me, not even close.
If she weren't so hellbent on walking out of my life, I'd be proud of the way she beats her fists against my back, cursing like a sailor.
Instead, I'm terrified.
I'm not a man who panics, not even when we're down by six with a minute left on the clock. But the thought of her leaving sends me into a full-blown meltdown. My hands are shaking, my mind reeling, my body running on nothing but desperate instinct.
I can't let her go. I can't.
"Austin, put me down right now!" The way she bites my shoulder only makes me want her more.
"You'll thank me in five minutes," I growl, already striding past the tiny, framed photos in her hall. Her apartment is small and a little messy, but it smells like her. I want to bottle that scent and breathe it forever.
"I mean it, Austin! If you do not put me down, I swear to God—"
She twists hard, almost slipping out of my grip, but I clamp a palm over her ass and pin her in place.
"Quit moving," I growl, which only makes her squirm more.
"Austin, dammit!"
I kick open her bedroom door and toss her onto the bed, relishing the way she shrieks as she bounces. She's halfway to her feet before I'm on her, dragging her back down beneath me.
She claws at my arm, but I just pin her wrists over her head, straddling her hips.
"Let me go, you Neanderthal!"
"No," I say, giving her a smile that's more threat than anything.
She glares up at me, her cheeks flushed, her hair wild, her eyes full of a storm I want to chase for the rest of my life. Goddamn, she's stunning.
"This is kidnapping," she hisses.
"Try to leave again, and I'll tie you to the bed," I say, only half-joking.
She lifts her chin, full of defiance. "You can't make me stay."
I don't bother reminding her that this is her place. Instead, I lean down, my lips brushing hers, my voice steel. "Yes, I fucking can."
She gasps, a shudder rippling through her, and I know the fight isn't all annoyance. There's heat there, need. I can feel it in the way her body arches up, in the way her legs wrap around my waist, even as she pretends to hate this.
But I'm not here to play nice. I'm here to make her understand. To make her so aware of what's between us that she can't remember why she ever wanted to walk away in the first place.
I can fix what I fucked up. I can deal with the photos and make sure no one else ever even thinks about disrespecting her again. But I can't deal with her walking away now.
I tear her leggings down, nearly splitting the fabric in my haste. She tries to kick me in the ribs, but I grab both ankles and press them flat to the bed.
She's panting now, all bravado gone, replaced by a vulnerability I've never seen in her, not even when she told me about her parents.
"You can't just—"
