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“Don’t think you’ll sweet-talk your way out of this,” I state, tugging at my wrist. But he doesn’t let go.

Instead, he grins—slow and wicked.

When I go to swing at him with my free hand, he catches it midair, fast and firm.

“Ah, ah,” he warns softly, and in one fluid motion, he shifts.

I don’t have time to react before I’m on my back, his weight pinning me to the ground.

He’s everywhere. His body flush against mine. My wrists pinned above my head. His breath hot on my face.

And just like that, the moment turns.

Neither of us moves.

Time folds in on itself. My pulse roars. My breath stutters. The space between us vanishes, and the silence sings with tension so taut it trembles.

One move could change everything.

And it feels like something I want. Something I shouldn’t want.

I find my voice, but it’s weaker than I want it to be. “Finnis MacGregor—”

His name is a tremble on my lips. And then he’s there—closer. His breath ghosting over my mouth, his lips barely brushing mine.

“If you don’t get off me, I swear—”

But the words dissolve because there’s no true meaning behind them.

“Ye’ll what?” he breathes, and the sound of it unravels something deep in me.

A noise escapes me—soft, fragile, shamefully wanting. A whimper. Barely there. But it betrays everything.

His grip tightens. His body stays locked against mine. His breath fans across my cheek, uneven now, as if he’s holding himself back.

“You might handle Callan and Casey with ease…” his voice dips lower still, his breath dragging slow and hot across my skin, “but they’re… not… me.”

A shiver rolls down my spine.

The silence between us stretches—thick, molten. It hums, strung tight like a bow pulled to breaking.

And he’s right.

There is no one in this realm quite like him.

No one whose words soothe the storm inside me, yet set my skin aflame. No one else that can hold me down like this and make me feel as if I belong here. No one who makes me feel as safe and seen as he does.

His strength should unnerve me. Should make me fight back harder, make me remind him—remind myself—that I bow to no man.

Instead, it makes me want to yield.

I want him pressing me down, keeping me here, making me feel every bit of his dominance until I forget how to fight it.

And his breath alone is enough to make my thighs press together with aching, helpless need.

I shouldn’t feel this way. Not about Finn. Not about the man who’s always been my steady ground.

But I do. Desperately.