Page 99 of The Good Girl Effect

Once her arms are free, I snatch the red silk from her fist, waving it in her face with flared nostrils and furrowed brows.

When she sees the anger in my eyes, her chest expands, and she grows a few inches taller.

That’s it, baby. Fight with me.

“Don’t you wave that in my face!” she shouts, snatching the fabric from me. “I can do whatever I please.”

“Think again, little bird,” I argue, getting even closer to her.

“I donotbelong to you.”

My hand snatches her arm, and I toss her over my shoulder while she screams in displeasure.

“Jack St. Claire, put me down!” she hollers as I drag her away from the wall and away from Julian, who is still watching us with enthusiasm. I bet he’s proud of himself for this, but I’m not concerned with him right now.

I intend to carry Camille from the club like I did the first time I found her here unexpectedly. That’s what Ishoulddo, but we pass down the long hallway of rooms, and I know I’ll never make it to the exit. What did I really expect? That I could just deposit her on the street and somehow return to my work upstairs as if nothing happened?

No. We are either going to fight this out or fuck this out. Or both.

The rooms are all still unlocked, so I throw open the door of the first one and hoist her inside while she bangs her fists against my back. As I set her down on her feet, she doesn’t rest for even a second, flying straight toward me in anger.

“What is wrong with you?” she shrieks.

“Me?” I argue. “What is wrong withyou? What are you doing here? And withhim?”

“I was bringingyouyour lunch,” she says, punching her finger against my chest. “But it doesn’t matter what I was doing because I don’t belong to you!”

My hand flies to her mouth, covering it in a rush as I back her against the wall. Her eyes are wide, and I can feel her panting breath against my palm. Getting close to her face so our bodiesare flush, I mutter angrily, “We both know that’s not true, little bird.”

Her hands claw at my chest as she tries to push me away while also scratching through the fabric as if she wants to hurt me. Behind my hand, she’s trying to argue, but her words are muffled and incoherent.

I press my body to hers as her eyes meet mine. There is a fire in them, torrid passion blazing behind the irises. Neither of us can grasp where the fury ends and the arousal begins.

“No one else can touch you,” I say as I swipe open the top button of her blouse. “No one else can even fucking look at you.” My fingers continue, slipping open one button at a time until she’s no longer clawing at my chest but mimicking my ministrations.

Suddenly, we are furiously undressing each other, but my hand is still pressed over her lips to keep her from speaking.

“Do you understand me?” I ask as I slide my hand around her waist under her shirt, my cool palm against her hot skin. “You are mine, little bird. No one else’s.”

She doesn’t respond as she slips my shirt from my shoulders, obviously eager to touch me but not eager to answer my question.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, there are warning signs trying to remind me that we’re not supposed to say things like this to each other. I can’t make commitments and promises to this woman. But they are too distant and faint to acknowledge, drowned out by this need to have her.

I replace the hand over her mouth with my lips. She kisses me back, mercilessly biting my bottom lip between her teeth. Her obstinance radiates through the kiss, and it makes me want to dominate her even more, but I know I need to earn her submission to get that. I can’t force it.

As we kiss, trading bites and moans, we work off each other’s pants. She still won’t answer my question, refusing to adhere to my unfair requests.

Before we go any further, I stop her with a grip around her throat. Pressing her to the wall, I force her to look up at me. She’s still tenaciously angry, and I want that.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” I growl.

“No,” she argues with her chin raised.

I pepper it with kisses before pulling away and trying to force her again.

“Say it, little bird.”

When she tries pushing me away, I notice tears springing to her eyes. She’s upset, and I understand why. I’m being unreasonable. Asking for more than I’ve offered to give. Demanding something from her without earning it first.