My voice hardens. “Let me go or else.”
“Or else what?” he roughly chuckles. “You’ll run? Careful, baby. If you do that again, I won't be able to keep myself from fucking you.” I’m supposed to be playing this out as a scenario, but I can’t focus. That promise lathers over my skin, soaking into my flesh as he grinds his hard cock against my ass to further his point. “I like it when you run from me.”
I’m on the verge of snapping and handing myself over to him.
Get it together, Kate.“I said, no.”
“Your mouth may say one thing, but your body doesn’t lie.” With one arm wrapped around my shoulders, and his other hand gripping the slit in my skirt, I ready my knife. “Should I ask your pussy instead?”
Leaning the back of my head against his chest to bring my mouth inches from his, I mold against him and lift my arm. To him, it may seem like I’m folding for his charm, but the second his eyes fall to my lips, I press the tip of my knife into the side of his neck, but not enough to hurt him. One sudden jerk of my hand and I’d impale his carotid artery.
I speak the words across his mouth, but they are feeble. “Let. Me. Go.”
His lips lift into a satisfied smile. “Very good. I thought I had you distracted there for a minute.”
If only he knew.I swear I’m so soaked, I’m dripping down the inside of my thighs.
His arms release me, the removal of his body warmth making me shiver at the loss of him. “I expected you to put up more of a fight like you did in the gym, but this performance was applause-worthy.”
I turn around with a smile, my happiness instantly vanishing as my eyes lock on the red drop, dripping down his neck.
Retreating a step, my horror is written across my face. I slap a hand over my mouth, shaking my head. “I’m so sorry!”
Crimson slides down his neck, seeping into the collar of the gray t-shirt he’s wearing.
His head slants. “You think a little cut like this hurts me? Don’t fucking apologize, Kate. If it comes down to it, and someone isn’t listening to your threat, don’t be afraid to draw a little blood, darling.”
I sheath my knife back against my thigh. “But it was pretend.” I don’t know why I say it, maybe because I’m fishing for the truth.
Are my senses off, or did he mean those things he said about the day he found me on the dock? That I’m infesting his thoughts as much as he’s consumed mine.
When he swallows and says, “Not all of it,” we stand there holding each other’s eyes, both of our chests rising and falling, trying to catch our breath.
The air crackles.
Electricity sizzles and sparks in the space between us.
My body burns to feel every inch of his against mine.
And then, because I have a death wish, I run.
TWENTY-SIX | KATE
If I’m being accurate, I have a death-by-dick wish.
It would be one hell of a way to go out.
Warm air whips across my face, my ponytail thrashing behind me as I sprint out the way I came, back into the maze. A tendril of hair sticks to my wet lips as I bolt left, my body prickling in awareness, knowing he’s not far behind me.
I can hear his footsteps harmonizing with my own. Beautifully chaotic, like whatever is transpiring between us.
Anticipation skitters to every nerve ending when I turn again and nearly run face-first into the hedge at a dead-end, the same time a hand whips out to grip my neck. Preston whirls me around with ease, effortlessly tossing me over his shoulder with the swagger of an animal that knows it's captured its prey.
And damn do I hope he’s about to feast on me.
A smack resonates through the air, my ass stinging where his hand landed. He does it again to the other cheek, eliciting a yelp from my lips. The pain makes the anticipation curl in my belly, eager to see what happens next.
He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. Our thundering hearts and pulses are communicating enough for us.
