Page 74 of Corrupt Me

“Run.”

Excitement floods through me, mixing with a euphoric rush that thrills me to my core. I feel so alive I could jump high up in the sky and shout at the top of my lungs. I want him to catch me—because I know how good it would be, even if only for a while. But my rational side tells me to stop this maddening push and pull.

I open my mouth to tell him we should forget what he said, walk back, and keep things civil. But the words die as my thoughts scatter, caught by the uncontained hunger dilating his pupils.

“Run, kitten, but that won’t help you much. I’ll catch you either way. Congrats, you broke my control—again.”

A jolt of adrenaline surges through me, and I take off, unsure if I’m heading in the direction we came from. Shoving at branches while I get deeper into the heart of the forest, my feet grow heavier, my breaths coming out in shallow pants. It’s the snow. Everyone knows snow makes running more difficult.

Hunter should have caught me by now. I am a realist. He’s more fit and lives for sport, while I am more of a sedentary athlete. In addition to that, my shorter stride and endurance are nothing compared to his. I am genuinely surprised I am still running.

When I come to a stop, I whip my head back, but I don’t see him.

Chest panting, I try to ease the panic seizing my lungs.Nothing will happen to him, I tell myself. I don’t know if there are bears or wolves in these woods, but if there are, I’d still bet on Hunter, seeing him winning against a wild animal.

There’s no cure for what I have.

The snap of a twig jerks my attention, and I spin toward the sound, but it’s only a small fox. Its coppery fur stands in contrast against the white snow and green pines, so striking it makes me forget I should still be running.

A low growl rumbles in his throat. “I told you not to give a predator your back, kitten. It makes it easier for us to take you by surprise.”

A whoosh of air escapes my mouth as his hand wraps around my neck. He sucks on my neck, emanating sounds of satisfaction. It takes everything in me to put a stop to my growing pleasure and show him that I have been paying attention to our fighting lessons.

I jab my elbow into his stomach, grinning as he doubles over. “This prey doesn’t let herself be caught that easily.”

Then I dart away again, my heart pounding. I won’t give him the satisfaction of having me whenever he pleases. No, I need more, even though he refuses to see it. At times, he gives me the impression that he wants more just as much as I do.

He catches me two more times.

The first time, he backs me into a tree. Snow tumbles from the branches, and it’s like we’re caught inside a shaken snow globe for a few seconds.

“Try to resist me. You never could and never will.” He groans and slams his mouth on mine. If I’m his perdition, he’s my undoing.

That wakes me from the trance his mouth put me in. If this is a game for him, let’s play. While he might be the expert in seduction, I must be doing something right.

Pretending to caress his face, my fingers grip his sweater, and I back him into the tree. He casts a heated gaze my way that almost melts my fight, but I push away and sprint off again. Not for long though.

He jumps on me, and I land on the soft blanket of snow with him on top of me. He caught me, and I am ready for him to take me. This visceral need to fuck overrides my thoughts. Maybe it’s the whole hunter and prey thing, but a delicious shiver runs through me. He deserves his prize.

“When I give chase, I’ll always catch you. And we both fucking know what will happen once I do.”

He won. I should accept it, but I don’t want him to lose control—I want it to shatter into a million pieces, fragments so scattered he’ll never be able to reassemble them. So, I continue to provoke him.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Are you in need of a protein shake? You seem so out of breath.”

That’s a lie, and we both know it. We’re both panting for a completely different reason. My chest heaves, waiting for what he will do next.

“I should pound your little cunt raw right here and now.”

“Why won’t you?” I ask, licking my lips and grinding against his groin. Even through two thick winter jackets, I feel his fingers dig into my skin. It’s that maddening heat, but I can also sense his restraint of wanting to hold on to his control.

Fine. I won’t get what I want, but neither will he.

“Get off me.”

He immediately gets up. He would never cross a line—he just likes to test limits, especially his own.

While I wipe away the snow clinging to my jacket, he stands there, breathing hard, every muscle in his face pulled taut. The magic vanishes as quickly as a snap of the fingers.

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