I’m huffing and puffing by the time I end my tirade.
He’s inched closer, now looming over me.
No remorse in his unnerving eyes whatsoever.
A gust of air escapes my lips in a rush as he lifts a finger to slowly brush a strand behind my ear that got stuck to my right cheek.
Rather than removing his hand, he splays his hand underneath my jaw and tilts my face. “Don’t ever run from me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m used to you runningtome.” Skating a finger down the column of my throat, which causes my lashes to flutter, he rasps, “I like it that way.”
There’s a dark wonderment in his tone, like he’s as surprised by his admission as I am.
“I’m not the same weak girl who needs rescuing.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Have you noticed that I am mad at you?”
“I have.” His finger keeps massaging my neck as he smirks. “I’m choosing to ignore it.”
I shake my head in exasperation, flattening my palms against his brick-like chest to push him away. He captures both my wrists in one large hand, dragging them to his lower abs and yanking me closer.
I’m trapped like a prisoner against his hard body. No amount of squirming and pulling loosens his vise-like grip.
“N-Nathan,” I stutter.
“You never answered me.”
Those four words are a bucket of ice-cold water on my head, reminding me he’s touching me with the same hands that were all over another woman-his date-minutes ago. “I won’t dignify that question with an answer. Now, let me go and return to Samaira.”
“I don’t want her.”
“Don’t insult me by lying,” I hiss. “You had your face buried in her neck when I came to the table. She was rubbing herself all over you and you sure seemed to enjoy it.”
“Did you wish it was you?”
“Yes!” I gasp as soon as I yell it.
A wide and deviant grin stretches across his mouth.
“No! no,” I backtrack. “I don’t mean that.”
“I won’t touch her for the rest of the night since it makes you so jealous.”
“I don’t care.” Kicking his foot, I demand, “Seriously! Take your hands off me. Or I swear I’ll scream.”
“Do it,” he dares.
I pant harder, unable to let loose the sound like I threatened. He freaking knows I despise causing scenes or any form of confrontation. Giving up the fight, I sigh. “What do you want from me, Nathan?”
He stares.
Invasive.
Intense.
