God, he actually fights tonight.
“Let me go!” he snaps, knee hitting my thigh.
I grab his jaw, fingers digging in.
“No.”
He tries to claw at my mask, so I pin both his wrists above his head with one hand, my body crushing his against the bark.
“Should’ve changed, princess,” I growl, breathing hot against the shell of his ear.
“Should’ve stayed home.”
“Fuck you,” he pants, chest rising and falling fast.
“That’s the plan.”
He sucks in a sharp breath.
I drag my gloved hand from his wrists down the front of his throat, pausing right where his pulse beats like a trapped bird.
He freezes—just like that first night.
“Lex…” he whispers, not sure if he wants to fight or melt.
My thumb presses under his jaw, guiding his head back against the tree.
Vulnerable.
Perfect.
“You ran,” I murmur, leaning in until my mask brushes his cheek.
“Which means you wanted me to catch you.”
Jamie shivers.
“I—didn’t—”
“Liar.”
I wrap my hand fully around his throat—tight enough to hold him still, gentle enough he can still breathe.
But just barely.
His lips part.
His eyes go wide, glassy, needy.
The same look he gives me every time he ends up on his knees.
I press my body flush to his, pinning him completely, feeling his pulse hammer against my palm.
His hoodie slips off one shoulder, exposing warm skin.
My voice drops, dark heat curling through it.
“Now…”
