He spans his large hands around my waist and grips it tighter, pinning me down on his lap.
Right on top of something hard, thick, and undeniable.
He’s turned on.
A startled sound slips out of me—half whimper, half moan.
“You sadistic piece of shit,” I rasp as I wiggle on his lap.
“You’re welcome.” He pins my hands behind me. “Stop fighting me.”
“Make me, Elias. I fucking dare you.”
“You like it though. I can see it.” Elias dips his lips to my ear. “You’re turned on. Just like Thanksgiving.”
I shiver. “You’re delusional.”
“Am I? Or are you lying to yourself?”
He kneads my waist, his fingers dipping under my oversized sweater, grazing my skin.
Tiny flames lick outward. My breathing stutters.
“You hate me. I loathe you,” he says, his voice rough. “I stole you from your family, took away your freedom. I shot Maxwell. Take your revenge. Bevicious.”
Is this how Persephone felt when Hades pulled her into the depths of hell?
My eyes flicker up to his again, seeing the taunt and challenge in them.
He thinks I won’t hurt him? He wants viciousness?
My jaw tightens. I sock him across the face like my self-defense instructor taught me.
Elias wipes his mouth, his hand coming away with blood.
“Again,” he growls.
“You want me to hurt you?” I gape and climb off him.
“I want you to mean it. You can do better, Lana.”
This time, he doesn’t make it easy. He pounces on me and locks my hands behind my back. His eyes darken with unholy fire.
I yell and knee him where it hurts.
“Fuck!” He drops me, staggers back, and groans from obvious pain.
“Good. Stay down.”
A high like no other burns through my veins.
“Is this vicious enough for you?” I ready myself to deliver another right hook across the bastard’s face.
He blocks me with his arm. A deranged smile splits his lips.
“Not even close, princess.”
Fury surges up my spine, and I jam my elbow into his chest.
