I try to struggle, but that only pushes my half-naked breasts forward, making them bounce in his hands.
“Are you putting on a show for me?” He smirks.
“Screw you.”
He pinches hard again, and pressure builds behind my eyes.
“Try again.”
“What do you want from me, damn it?”
He pinches again, and I bite my lower lip so hard that I taste blood. I’m all flushed, sweaty, and sticky. It kills me that I’m allowing him to have this effect on me.
“So now you want to know what I want?” He tsks, lazily brushing his thumb on my hard nipple.
“Just tell me.”
“What makes you think I want to tell you now? Maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I like you this way.”
My chest heaves up and down in an erratic rhythm. He’s not even looking at me. All his attention is on my breasts and… the scar. He doesn’t break eye contact from it like he’s a child who’s found a new favourite toy.
He watches intently with that slight furrow in his thick brows. His suffocating interest makes me feel even more exposed than when he ripped my shirt open.
“I’ll do it,” I blurt. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”
His smokey eyes finally slide up to mine as he tilts his head.
It’s a dangerous tactic, but it’s the only way to swipe his attention from my scar.
“Apologise,” he says with a casualty that negates his blackening eyes and the torturous swipe of his thumb on my nipple.
“Apologise for what?”
“For threatening me.”
Hot fury whooshes through my veins like a fast-spreading fire.
Enough.
I’m not taking his entitled shit anymore.
“You’re the one who’s supposed to apologise to me! You ruined my life for two years for no reason and you’re now holding me against my will.”
“Hmm, for no reason.” He repeats with a casualty that kills me. “Is that what you think?”
Nope. No. I’m not breaking my rule. I won’t try to understand bullies.
Not now.
Not ever.
I wiggle against him, stomping my feet and groaning with pent up frustration.
“You might want to stop, Frozen.”
“Screw. You,” I grunt, willing all my strength to get me out of his hold.
“Keep struggling, and you’ll have to take care of this.” He pushes his hips into me. Something pokes against the softness of my belly.
My eyes widen, and I go completely still.
He’s… hard.
His usual bored expression is gone. The star, perfect player is gone, too.
Instead, there’s this dark spark of sadism.
He gets off on my struggle. No. Scratch that. He gets off on seeing me helpless.
The arsehole is turned on by my weakness.
Is he… a full-blown sociopath?
“You’re sick,” The words leave my mouth in a haunted whisper.
He lifts a shoulder. “Could be.”
His fingers snake into my bra and circle a nipple. I thought it was torturous over the cloth, but having his skin against mine is complete hell.
I can feel the pulse of his nerves — or mine — and it’s making me hyper-aware of everything.
Of the pine scent around us. Of the rustle in the trees. The humidity in the air. And his sheer asphyxiating presence.
I screw my lids shut, not wanting to feel whatever sensation that’s crawling up my spine.
His touch is bruising, uncomfortable even, but there’s a flash of something going through me that I can’t identify.
No one has ever touched me this way before, and I hate that Aiden King is the first to invade my body.
“Do you like me hard for you?” he asks in a nonchalant, almost amused tone.
“Of course not. Are you crazy?”
“Then why aren’t you giving me what I want? Because the more you resist, the harder I’ll get.”
“Go fuck yourself, Aiden.” I stare at him straight in the eyes. “I won’t let you break me.”
It’s false bravado.
I’m scared of this monster. After what he did today, I honestly don’t know how far he’d go.
However, after my parents’ death, I vowed to never apologise for something I haven’t done.
Aiden fucking King won’t make me go back to that helpless child I was.
“Don’t put ideas in my head.” He runs the pad of his thumb over my nipple. “It’s already crowded with so many fantasies about you.”
So many fantasies about me?
Aiden has freaking fantasies about me?
“Are you going to tell me what scares you, Frozen?” It’s a taunt, his mocking way to put me in my place.
“Nothing scares me.”
“I call bullshit on that. Everyone has something that scares them.” He sounds thoughtful. “What’s yours?”
I lift my chin. “I told you. Nothing.”