I roll my eyes and lean away from him, but he pulls me forward until I stand between his thighs.
“Someone locked me in,” I explain as though to a dullard.
The heat emanating from his legs burns my chilled flesh even through all the layers of clothes between us.
“Who?”
His acceptance of my admission shocks me out of my anger, and I blink at him as though waking from a fever-induced dream.
“What?”I ask.
“Who locked you in?”he repeats.
The lack of skepticism in his voice is too good to be true.I try to shuffle away, but he pulls me closer and closes his thighs around mine.My heart gallops in my throat as he surrounds and traps me.
Warmth pulses between my legs.My nipples harden and lips tingle.
“Which time?”I ask.
“I don’t need you to tell me about today; I can just check the security footage.Tell me about fifteen years ago,” he demands.
My hope shatters, and I slump in his suit coat, his grip on the sleeves preventing me from retreating.Instead of feeling confining, the fabric wraps around me like a supportive hug.His scent wafting from the threads heightens my desire even as pain slices through my heart.
“You don’t believe me,” I accuse.
He lifts a single brow, transfers both sleeves to one fist, and wraps a gigantic hand around my hip.
“You’d never lie about something like this, Penelope.I believe you; I’m just trying very, very hard to not be angry.”
“Angry?You don’t have the right—”
“You hid something from me for fifteen years.You turned me into the bad guy through ignorance.I have the right,” he growls.
I pause and swallow as I sense the eerie stillness emanating from him.The murderous rage hidden in his gaze isn’t directed at me, but it’s frightening in its intensity.He flexes his thick fingers around my hip.Liquid warmth floods my panties.
“Why are you acting like this?”I ask.
“Because you’re mine, sweet pea.”
My insides melt.I want the possessive, overbearing, protective beast lurking in his eyes even as my logical, independent self balks at his claim.
“I’m not—”
“You don’t get to kiss me like you did and then pretend like we’re just friends,” he rumbles.
I stutter the most ridiculous lie of my life.
“It was just a kiss.”
He twists his grip on his sleeves, tightening the fabric around my back, and leans forward to emphasize his words.
“It’s more than I’ve ever given anyone else,” he states.
My brain screeches to a halt.He must be joking.
He slips his hand to the small of my back, but his fingers are so big his thumb brushes the underside of my shoulder blade and his pinkie teases the upper curve of my butt.
I lift my chin and swallow.Even with him sitting in the chair and me standing in my shoes with hidden platforms, his eyes are slightly higher than mine.
