Page 168 of Toxic Kiss

His mouth turns up as something shifts behind his predatory stare. Possession. It’s the same look he gave me in the kitchen. I try to swallow, but my throat is as dry as the Sahara, and every muscle in me twists tight.

He takes a step forward.

I take one to the side.

He takes another.

I try to move away, but there is nowhere to go in my cage.

“You bribed the guard. That’s a crime.”

“Do you really think a little thing like being in a jail cell will stop me? Even in here, you’re mine, Butterfly.”

“Are you actually out of your mind?”

“Oh…I am. For you.”

Oh shit. I lurch to my left and run for the bars, like that will actually help. Cy is on me in a flash, his arm snakes around my waist, and he hauls me back into him until there is no space between our bodies.

His lips drop to the side of my neck as he holds me firm.

“Fuck you smell good.”

“The bar is low when you are in a jail cell.”

“Don’t deflect,” he growls against my skin, and my knees shake. My breath catches as the reality of his intentions sinks in.

“This isn’t funny,” I manage to get out. “Cy, there is a man in the other cell, and probably officers watching,” I hiss.

“Ask me if I give a fuck.”

He slowly pushes me forward until my chest is pressed up against the cold bars.

“Cy, I’m serious, you need to stop,” I fire back, even as heat crawls up my neck.

“Right,” he murmurs. “Like that will happen.” He cups me through my jeans. I gasp, and my fingers curl around the bars. “Fuck, I’m so hard for you.”

Cy rubs himself against my ass, and my eyes roll back in my head as a battle of right versus wrong breaks out inside of me.

“We can’t do this.”

The words come out clearly, but his fingers press firmly against my clit, causing my brain to misfire. Despite my objections, I press my ass back harder into him.

“You need to stop.”

“Then say the words. Say you’re mine, mean it, and I’ll stop.”

There is no way to tell if this is a win-win or a lose-lose situation. Maybe it’s both. Saying what he wants to hear is the safest option. But giving Cyrus my truth feels like handing him a loaded gun. Not saying them…has a whole other set of consequences.

“Please, Cy…don’t⁠—”

The argument flies away as I moan.

While I’ve been busy arguing with myself, I haven’t noticed Cy undoing my jeans. His fingers slip between my legs, and my breath catches. He strokes my wet panties, proving just how much I want him. I do. I always do. God, help me.

“You know what you need to do to make me stop. Just say it,” Cyrus whispers against my ear, his teeth grazing my skin. “You know you want to.”

My mouth opens, but no words come out. We both know the answer isn’t simple, but that won’t stop him. And fuck…a big part of me doesn’t want him to stop.