Page 33 of Lost to the Woods

Silence. The tension in the air is razor-sharp, causing me to squirm.

“Okay,” he finally says. Not the slightest hint of surprise to be heard. “And?”

Take a hint, bro!

“And some of the things we talked about are way out of my comfort zone.”

He hums. “But you enjoyed talking about them,” he counters smoothly, his fingers flexing against my flesh.

I chew my lip. “True, but it’s different via text. And I guess I panicked when you were supposed to fly to me and possibly…doall these things to me.”

One second, I can breathe—the next, his hand is wrapped around my neck firmly like a collar. A gasp gets caught in my throat. His grip isn’t suffocating, but it’s enough to make me hyperaware of his strength, his control.

“You think having me chase you is fun?” His voice is a gravelly rasp, rougher than usual, each word dragging like sandpaper over my skin.

A whimper escapes me before I can stop it. I wiggle on his lap, trying to get free, but it only makes his grip tighten. My hands circle his wrist, but I don’t push him away.

I don’t want him to stop.

He tilts his head slightly, like he’s studying me. “You have no idea the things I want to do to you now for being such a naughty little tease.” His fingers press against my pulse, feeling it race beneath my skin. His other hand slides lower on my thigh, his touch grazing the hem of my skirt.

The heat between my thighs throbs, and I shift on his lap, desperate for some kind of relief.

Big mistake.

Ghost’s grip tightens on my throat just enough to make me dizzy. “You’re not as innocent, Bunny.” His voice drips with dark amusement, but it’s edged with something deeper. Darker. “Tatts, piercings… you like a little pain, don’t you?”

I shake my head—or try to—but his hold keeps me still. “That’s not the same,” I protest breathlessly. “Besides,” I force out, “I even chickened out when I went to get my nipples pierced and then… it never happened.”

He finally releases my throat, dragging his palm down my collarbone, over my rose tattoo, then lower, lower still—until he’s tracing slow, deliberate circles around my nipple through the thin fabric of my dress.

“I like that they aren’t pierced,” he muses, his fingers rolling the hardened peak between them. “You’d look hot as fuck, don’t get me wrong,” he casually continues, like he’s not currently unraveling me, “but piercing gets in the way.”

I swallow hard. “In the way of what?”

His fingers tighten, pinching just hard enough to make my head fall back. “Nipple clamps, for example.”

A strangled noise gets caught in my throat as I press my thighs together, quivering. “See? This is what I’m talking about.” My voice is weak, needy, and it only makes him chuckle darkly.

Ghost’s grip on my leg turns possessive, his long fingers curling right against the gap between my thighs, forcing them apart.

“So if I reach down,” he murmurs, voice like a devilish promise, “I won’t find you wet?”

“No,” I whisper.

He chuckles. “Liar.” I feel his mask brush against my ear, and I shudder. “You want me,” he murmurs, his voice deep enough to touch my soul. His fingers shifting lower. He doesn’t touch me—not quite. Just hovers. Teases. “You need me. You’re just too fucking stubborn to admit it.”

I turn my face toward him, frustration burning through me. My fingers curl around the edge of his balaclava, pulling it up over his inked neck, just enough to reveal the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. An adorable dimple in his chin. His full lips curved into that goddamn smirk. The tip of his straight nose.

He’s gorgeous. Of course he is.

I hate him.

“Bad little bunny.” He grins, and even his teeth are perfect. “Can’t help yourself, can you?”

And that’s all I get.

“Now, now,” he mocks. “Don’t make me tie you up.” Then he grabs both my wrists in one of his large hands and yanks them behind my back. I gasp as he pins them there, his grip unshakable, his hold effortlessly dominant.

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