"No."
I struggle against his grip. He holds fast. I'm strong—soldier strong—but he's bigger, heavier, and he's using every ounce of it to keep me trapped.
"Let go?—"
"Make me."
I surge against him, trying to wrench free, and he uses my momentum to spin me.
My back slams against the door hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.
His body pins mine. Every hard, hot inch of him pressed against me.
And I feel it.
The thick, rigid length of his cock against my hip.
He's hard. He's been hard this whole time, getting off on my fury, on my struggle, on the violence crackling between us.
Knowing this should disgust me.
Instead, heat floods through me—dark and shameful and so intense I can feel myself getting wet.
My hips roll against him before I can stop them, grinding against that hardness, seeking more.
I hate myself for it.
I don't stop.
I hear the sharp intake of his breath. Feel his hips press harder against mine, his cock grinding into my hip.
"There she is," he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. "There's the truth you've been hiding from everyone. Including yourself."
"Fuck you."
"That's exactly what's about to happen."
His mouth crashes down on mine.
I should bite through his lip. Should drive my knee into his groin. Should use every dirty trick the Army taught me to put him on the ground and walk away.
Instead, I kiss him back.
And God help me—God fucking help me—it feels like finally breathing after eight years underwater.
His mouth devours mine with bruising force, tongue pushing past my lips, claiming me.
I meet him with teeth, biting down on his lower lip until I taste copper, and the groan that tears out of him vibrates through my entire body.
Eight years. Eight years I've been running from this moment, and now that it's happening, I can't remember why I ever thought I could escape.
His hands release my wrists to fist in my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat.
His mouth drags down—teeth scraping, tongue soothing—and I'm gasping, clawing at his shoulders, ripping at his shirt like an animal.
"Eight years," he growls against my pulse. "Eight fucking years I've waited for this."
"Shut up." I drag his mouth back to mine because his words are destroying me, dismantling every wall I've ever built. If he keeps talking, I'll fall apart. "Shut up and?—"
