His smile is slow. Dangerous. “I changed my mind.”
Ice floods my veins.
“You can’t just—”
“I can do whatever I want, Beda. We’ve established this.”
He shifts closer, his nose inches from mine. The bark digs into my spine through the jacket.
“You smell sofuckingsweet,” he murmurs. “It pisses me off.”
I force myself to meet his eyes. “Get off me.”
“Make me.”
The challenge hangs between us.
I still have the knife. Still have the brass knuckles. I could—
His mouth crashes into mine.
The kiss is brutal. Demanding. His tongue sweeps past my lips before I can process what’s happening, claiming every inch of my mouth like he owns it.
I bite down. Hard.
He pulls back with a sharp inhale, blood on his bottom lip. His eyes flash in…pleasure.
Hunger.
“Fuck, Ayla,” he breathes. “you are going to be so much fun.
I drive my knee up toward his groin.
He blocks it with his thigh, shifts his weight, I’m completely pinned. The tree at my back, his body caging me in from the front. His weight, heavy, on me. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he says, almost gentle.
“Good.”
He laughs. Actually laughs. “Still hostile, Krolik.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Are you scared?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
He eases back a bit, one hand moving to my hip fingers digging in through the denim. The pressure is firm. Possessive. It makes something hot and unwanted coil low in my stomach.
No.Absolutely not.
I bring the brass knuckles up, aiming for his jaw.
It connects.
The impact jolts up my arm, a clean, brutal line of pain. His head snaps to the side, breath punching out of him in a sharp exhale. Not stunned, but disrupted. That’s all I need.
