Knowing that even if I felt inclined to, it would be impossible.
I continue to stare, and it takes me a few moments to realize that she’s on her side and I’m staring at her shoulder. Without warning, she rolls toward me, her bare shoulder pressing into the front of mine, and immediately, an inferno ignites within me. My hands come up of their own volition, and even as my brain balks, my body surges forward, and within seconds, I’m wrapped around her.
“What th—” she mutters, making a half-assed attempt to struggle away from me. One of my arms is beneath her, her head against my bicep, my elbow bent so my hand is braced on her forehead. My other arm wraps around her, keeping her arm pinned to her side with my hand looping around her front, settling beneath her. I throw a leg over the top of hers, a low growl brewing in my chest as my pelvis comes in contact with her ass.
“You’re naked.”
She’s quiet for a moment but then whispers, “Well, no. But I didn’t have pajamas and made do with your shorts and t-shirt.”
I rub my face against the back of her neck, the cool contentment that settles over me sending a twinge of panic through what little logic I have left. I relax my hold on her slightly, but as soon as she moves away, I snatch her back close to me. She’s silent again, then asks, “What are you doing?”
“I have no idea,” I mutter breathlessly. She struggles against me, but all that does is fuel the fire that’s already burning inside of me, and so I say, “Stop moving.”
She freezes and then says, “Why are you naked?”
“I live here.”
She mutters to herself softly, and I can’t quite make out her words, but I have a feeling that she’s also cursing Camilla as I did earlier.
My grip on her tightens even more, and I quickly recognize that her struggling is due to her inability to breathe, so I relax slightly. I’m now rubbing myself along her back, from my chest down through my hips and thighs. Her breath catches, and she writhes back against me, but I have the distinct feeling that it’s an involuntary motion.
I’m all messed up, and the chaos in my brain makes it impossible for me to see beyond the haze of want and need overtaking my very existence. I have never in my entire life forced myself on anyone, and I would never force myself on anyone. But here I am, wrapped around a struggling woman, seemingly incapable of releasing her.
Once again, I press my forehead into the back of her neck, taking a few steadying breaths before I say, “I need you to do me a favor.”
“What?” Her question is hesitant as she leans her body away from mine slightly.
“I need you to leave.”
“What?”
My arms flex around her again, and I lift my head enough where my lips are touching her neck, and I nibble a trail up to her ear, where I whisper, “I’m going to release you, and you need to run like hell out of this room. The first room you come across with a lock, you stay there. Barricade the damn door, I don’t know what.”
“What’s going on?”
I laugh hollowly, now nuzzling her neck and ear, feeling what I can only describe as a purr falling from my lips. “Hell, if I know. But as a man who prides himself on self-control, I can tell you this isn’t it. This is a purely wild thing.”
I’ve crowded her to the point that she’s now on the edge of the far side of the bed, and she turns toward me slightly. “Okay. Just let me go, and I’ll do it.”
My brain screams at me to release her. My arms only tighten. Panicking slightly, I use the little brain cells I have left to try and sort a solution here. Finally, I reply, “I can’t seem to let go.”
“What do you mean you can’t freaking let go?” Her voice is shrill, but the panic in her tone only increases the inferno inside me. The tenser she becomes, the more fearful her tone, the more my excitement grows.
I remove my leg from the top of hers, my knee instinctively coming up between, spreading her, so this time when I push my hips forward, my dick slides along her clothed pussy.
She gasps, a low moan echoing through the room, and then she whispers, “Holy shit. What are you doing?”
I rear back, shaking my head violently as that primal urge to take her barrels down on me, and through gritted teeth, I say, “Can you reach the drawer of the bedside table?”
She yanks her arm free, and I manage to stop myself from wrangling her back to me, and she replies, “Yes, I can reach it.”
“There’s a syringe in there. Grab it.”
“What? A what?”
“For fuck’s sake, Vivian,” I mutter painfully, barely one last thread of control left. “You’re gonna have to tranq me. Unless you want me to roll you on your front and fuck you into next week. You’re gonna have to do it.”
She freezes, and I’m sure she must think I’ve lost my mind because I most certainly have lost my damn mind. She rummages around, and the more she leans away from me, the more I’m inclined to lean toward her. Then, suddenly, she leans back into me, and it’s like a wave of utter relief washes over me.
