I raise an eyebrow, refusing to let him see how much that brief contact affected me. “Or what?”
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. The growl of displeasure that rumbles in his chest, low and frustrated, does something to my insides that I refuse to examine too closely. He digs his hands into his hair.
“They might not have the same self-control,” he grits out. “You have no idea what kind of men are in this house, what a temptation you are, or what they’d do to you.”
Shrugging, I hold his gaze and raise an eyebrow, pretending to think I’m safe, and that Kozlov’s decree that I’m not to be touched will keep me that way. “They can’t touch me, or they’re dead.”
Something snaps behind his eyes.
Before I can react, he’s moving. His hand closes around my wrist, and he spins me, my back hitting the wall hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. Then he’s there, crowding me. His forearm braces above my head as his body, a wall of heat and muscle, pins me in place.
“You think this is a game?” His voice is low, dangerous, his face just inches from mine. “You think I’m joking?”
Maybe I should be scared. Maybe anyone with a brain would be cowering, apologizing, and promising to behave.
Instead, I lean into him. “What would they do, Bodhi? That’s worse than what I’m already facing?”
His breath catches. The tension ratchets through his body as his thigh presses between mine, the proof of his desire unmistakable against my hip.
“I know exactly what kind of men they are.” My voice is remarkably steady, even though everything inside me is shaking. “Just like I know what’s waiting for me on Saturday. What doyou think happens after the auction, Bodhi? You think whoever buys me is going to buy me flowers and ask nicely?”
His teeth grind and a vein pulses at his temple.
“So, yes.” I continue, tilting my chin up, refusing to look away. “Maybe I’d rather have some say in what happens to my body before it stops being mine.”
“You don’t know what you’re…” He stops himself, frustration rippling across his features, fist thumping the wall beside my head. His free hand comes up to cup my jaw and tilts my face toward his, grip firm but not cruel. “Just... don’t do anything reckless. Not with them.”
“Then who?” I breathe the word against his lips, close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating from his skin.
He doesn’t answer. Can’t answer, it seems. His thumb strokes along my cheekbone, and his eyes search my face with an intensity that makes my stomach flip.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. His breath comes hard and fast, his chest brushing against mine with every inhale. His gaze drops to my mouth, and I watch, mesmerised, as his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. His hand sliding from my chin to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my still-damp hair.
He’s going to kiss me. He’s actually going to do it.
“I can’t.” The words sound like they’re being ripped out of him. “He’ll kill you.”
Then he releases me, stepping back so abruptly that I nearly stumble without the wall of his body holding me up.
He closes his eyes and breathes out slowly through his nose. When he opens them again, something has shuttered behind them.
“Someone is going to anyway,” I whisper. “Don’t kid yourself.”
“Kitchen. Now.” His voice is rough, and his chest is heaving as he yanks the door open and gestures for me to step into the hallway ahead of him.
I hear the thud of his knuckles connecting with the wall before I even make it through the doorway, followed by a sharp crack. When he steps out after me, his shoulders are rigid and one hand flexes at his side as he relocks the door.
White plaster dust coats his knuckles. I’d bet money there’s a fist-sized hole in the wall of my room.
So Bodhi isn’t as in control as he’s trying to pretend.
When he turns and dips his head, politely waiting for me to walk first, I ignore him, walking past with my chin lifted, determined that this is not the end.
On the contrary. This is only the beginning.
I’ll figure out what drives Bodhi, and what will make him snap, if it’s the last thing I do.
11
