I grunt when she kicks back, boot scraping against my shin, slamming against my bare foot.
I lean more heavily against her. “I saidstop.”
But she doesn’t stop, doesn’t quit fighting, elbows jabbing into my side, boots still kicking, gloved hands trying to dislodge mine.
I should grab her more tightly—I know it. I should call out for security—I know that too.
But something inside me is unable to make that happen, unable to dig my fingers into her flesh with the intent to hurt, unable to use the force necessary to contain her, unable to callout and leave her to the men who’ve been paid to protect me and will have absolutely no qualms about doing what they need to in order to keep drawing a paycheck.
“Stop,” I order again, the word a rasp that tangles with her staccato breathing…
And has absolutely no effect on her fight.
She has to be exhausted—I can already feel the fatigue creeping into my limbs and my lungs are working overtime, my breaths short and sharp—but she’s not showing any sign of slowing down.
“Fuckingstop,” I growl. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She goes still—statue still, not a single flicker of movement, not a ragged breath.
Just…still.
Completely still.
Yet even as I process that, she’s suddenly moving again, and if I thought she was fighting before, that was child’s play.
She’s like a rabid dog suddenly cornered and on the offensive.
Crack!
I groan and stumble away from her when she throws her head back, her skull colliding with my chin.
Pain explodes through my face and my vision goes hazy, stars flashing and melding with the shadows of the room.
“Fuck,” I groan, hands slipping from her shoulders, one lifting to my temple, the other flailing after her as she spins toward the window again.
I manage to catch the back of her knit cap, but it just slides off her head, and then my vision is hazy for a completely different reason.
Because the hair…
Thecolorof that hair?—
It’s moonlight. Its silver shadows coaxed from the night sky.
It’s—
I don’t even see the blow, she moves so fast, that cape of silken pearls flowing behind her as she pivots and kicks me right in the junk.
Gasping, I bend forward, hands cupped over my dick, pain a persistent and growing drumbeat through my body. Still, I reach for her again…
And slip on a sheaf of papers that must have fallen to the floor.
My arms windmill and I stagger, trying to regain my balance.
It’s too late, I’m falling backward and?—
Crack!
My head hits the edge of my desk and I go down hard, liquid dripping down my face.
