He didn't. He held me there like that, his eyes locked onto mine. What was stopping him from killing me right now? Whatwas that poking into my hip? Was he really hard from all but choking me?
I must have imagined the pulse in my pussy beating faster. For fuck's sake he wanted to kill me.
"What is it with you?" he whispered. "I hate you but…" His brow creased.
"I hate you too," I whispered back. "So much."
"Shut up." His mouth crashed down onto mine, lips devouring me like he hadn't eaten in a lifetime. Instead of strangling me or burning me, he'd satisfy his ravenous appetite.
I found myself kissing him back, giving as good as I got, savoring the feeling of his stubble rough against my skin, wanting more.
His hand tightened around my throat while the other went to my hip, pulling me hard against him
I groaned. It was all I could do not to throw my legs around his hips and grind myself against him.
He rubbed the front of his jeans against me, his cock getting harder.
I wanted him to tear off my clothes and ram himself inside me. I bet his cock was nice and thick. He'd fill me all the way up, slam into me until I screamed.
He groaned and wrenched himself away from me, stalking a few steps away before turning back and rubbing a hand over the back of his head.
"What the fuck?" he muttered to himself. "You're making me lose my fucking mind."
"I didn't do anything," I said breathlessly. My whole body throbbed from where he'd touched me. My throat was cold, already missing the touch of his hand, his rough skin.
"Why did you let me bring you here?" he asked.
"Excuse me?" I blinked a couple of times and stared at him. "I don't remember you giving me a choice."
"You could have screamed or…" He kneaded the back of his neck. "Something."
"Victim blaming is very uncool," I said. "You're the one who pushed me into your car. If you didn't want me here, you shouldn't have done that. I could have gone about my day. Living my life. I still could."
I inched toward the door.
"Don't even fucking try," he growled. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the back of the house.
"Right, we were going to set fire to this place first, weren't we?" I said lightly.
I still wasn't thinking straight. I liked the way his fingers felt wrapped around my wrist. How would it feel to have him wrap both of his hands around my wrists, to pin me to a mattress while fucking my brains out?
He wants you dead, I reminded myself.
I was having a difficult time believing that. If hereallywanted me dead, wouldn't I be dead already? Unless he wanted to torture me first. That wasn't a welcome thought.
"Would now be a good time to remind you I didn't kill your father?" I asked while he dragged me through the house. The smell of mould lingered in the air, musky and nauseating. I was starting to get a headache. It might have been from that, and it might be from him.
"I still don't believe you," he said over his shoulder. "You did something to him and you're trying to do it to me, Forrest and Leif."
"I promise I'm not," I said. "If they like me, it's not because I'm doing…whatever it is you think I'm doing. What is that, by the way?"
"Witchcraft," he said.
"You think maybe I went to the cemetery at midnight and danced naked to make some kind of love spell?"
He looked back at me and frowned. Clearly the word ‘naked’ caught his attention.
There was more where that came from.
