Page 107

The challenge left my lips slow and deliberate, meant to cut, meant to provoke.

The heat between us snapped like a frayed wire, thick and dangerous. Her bright green eyes locked onto mine, fury burning in their depths, but it wasn’t just anger. It was something else. Something she wasn’t ready to admit.

“I won’t let you play me like this,” she whispered, voice raw, breathless.

But even as she said it, her fingers curled into fists at her sides, like she was holding herself back. Like she wanted to hit me. Or kiss me. Or both.

Good.

She was fighting. Just like I knew she would.

Her breath came in short, sharp bursts, her body taut beneath my grip. I felt the way she trembled—not in fear, but in frustration, in the same twisted need that coiled in my own gut.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she spat, but her voice wavered at the edges, cracking under the weight of everything pressing down on us.

I leaned in, pressing my body against hers just enough to feel her react. Just enough to let her know she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I already fucking told you,” I murmured, my voice low and rough. “You’re mine.”

She struggled against me, testing my hold, but we both knew she wasn’t trying to get away. Not really. She was pushing—pushing me, pushing herself, pushing whatever invisible boundary still remained between us.

Her glare could have cut through glass, but her eyes told a different story. Fire and fury mixed with something deeper, something she refused to name.

“You can’t just?—”

“Say it,” I cut her off, voice sharper this time, laced with warning.

Her chest heaved beneath mine, her pulse a frantic beat against my fingers. She was on the edge, caught between defiance and surrender, her lips parting just enough for a shallow breath to escape.

I could taste it—her hesitation, her want.

“Say it,” I murmured again, softer now, letting the words curl between us like smoke.

Her fingers twitched where I held them, her body shifting just enough to brush against mine. I could feel every inch of her pressed up against the cold metal lockers, trapped between the fight still raging inside her and the inevitable truth closing in.

Her gaze flickered to my mouth for just a second—one single fucking second—and that was all I needed to know.

She wanted this.

She wanted me.

Even if she hated herself for it.

Even if she hatedmefor it.

And that was the most intoxicating thing of all.

She didn’t say it. But she didn’t fight me either. And that was all I needed.

I crashed my mouth against hers—rough, unrelenting, no hesitation. Teeth, tongue, heat. It wasn’t a kiss; it was a claim, a demand, a goddamn war. The taste of her drowned out every rational thought, and I gave in, pressing her hard against the lockers, the cold metal rattling with the force of it.

Her wrists were still locked in my grip, pinned above her head, but she didn’t try to pull away. No, she met me with fire, her lips parting on a gasp before she bit down—sharp, punishing, like she wanted to prove she wasn’t breaking first. But she was burning. Just like me.

I growled against her mouth, something dark and wrecked unraveling between us, something that had been simmering for far too long. The second I loosened my grip, her hands were onme—clawing at my shoulders, my back, pulling me closer like she needed this as much as I did.

I grabbed her hips, yanking her against me, and she gasped when I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist like she belonged there. Like she had always fucking belonged there.

Shoes hit the floor with a dull thud, forgotten. Her body molded against mine, every inch of her pressing into me, making it impossible to think about anything else. Just this. Just her.