Page 48 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

"I'm flustered by your damn line in the sand." I snap, throwing a hand in the general direction of the kitchen—and maybe the universe. "You walking around here, all calm and competent and in charge, tossing aprons like you don't know exactly what that does to me?"

His brow arches, but I'm already on a roll.

"You bossing me around is my fantasy, Lucas."

His head tilts, eyes narrowing just slightly.

"I thought it was tying you to my bed."

Heat surges up my neck, but I don't flinch. I don't back down. Not anymore.

"To your bed." I fire back. "To those damn rings overhead. To the ones on the posts. It's not the rope, Lucas. It's you."

His breath hitches, but I keep going, my voice rising with every word.

"It's you taking control. Forcing me to take it. Forcing me to stay still and feel it. You know what that does to me—how fast I fall apart when you stop letting me pretend I'm not dying for it."

He steps closer, jaw tight. That storm behind his eyes cracks wide open.

"I'm not trying to make things complicated." I say again, but this time my voice breaks. "But you've been walking around like you're the only one going through hell, and I'm just… collateral."

My fists clench at my sides. "It's driving me insane."

His hands slam down on the counter between us, and he leans in.

"You're not the only one going insane."

The words are low. Controlled. But beneath them is a shout.

"The last two nights?" He growls. "Hell. I've been lying in bed hard for you. Fucking hard. Knowing you're six goddamn feet away on that couch, and I can't touch you. Can't fuck you. Can't claim you the way I want to."

My mouth falls open.

"So don't stand there and act like I haven't been wrecked every goddamn second you breathe near me." His eyes blaze.

The silence is electric. Shaking.

And then, I exhale.

"Then do it." My voice shakes with the force of it, the rawness. "Take me. Right here. Right now. Just stop this torment."

Lucas doesn't move.

He doesn't breathe.

His jaw clenches, muscles in his throat working like he's swallowing down a war. And for one agonizing second, I think he might crack. That he'll cross the space between us and destroy me in the best possible way.

But instead, he steps back.

The distance is a knife.

"I won't. And you damn well know why." His voice is low, controlled—unyielding.

"No." My breath shudders out. I shake my head, tears burning hot in the corners of my eyes. "No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to say you want me. That you're hard for me. That I'm driving you insane—and then refuse to touch me."

His jaw clenches. His silence says enough.

"Tell me how that's fair." I demand, voice cracking. "Tell me why it's okay for you to want me like that—say it like it's breaking you—and still pull back every time we get close."

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