Page 24 of Captive Prize

He bent me over, pinned me to the desk, his hips flush against my ass.

I grabbed for the silver letter opener in its wooden base. Before I could fully grip it, he plucked it from my hand and tossed it aside.

“Tsk, tsk, Zoya,” he murmured, dark amusement lacing his deep, velvety voice. “Did you really think I’d make this easy for you?”

Roman.

I already knew it was him. The moment he spoke a wicked thrill shot through me.

“Get off of me,” I snarled.

“Are you going to be a good girl and come with me quietly?” he whispered in my ear.

My body practically melted at those words.

No.

I wasn’t going to swoon because he acted like he owned the place. I wasn’t going to go all soft because I liked the way his hands gripped me.

And I was absolutely not wondering if that was his cock pressed against me.

Fighting me had turned him on.

Had turned me on.

Fuck.

“Well,printsessa, are you going to play nice? Or does this get ugly?”

“I—”

“Come now, don’t be shy. Tell me you’ll be sweet for me.”

Every time I pressed my palms to the desk, they slipped, sending more papers flying.

The Tiffany lamp tumbled and shattered, plunging the room into shadow, broken only by a sinister glow cast by the dim external security lighting.

He flipped me to face him then pinned me to the desk, massive hands clamped around my wrists.

“I’ll have your head for this!” I screamed, sending a knee upward.

He twisted just in time; my knee glanced off his thigh.

“Oh, feisty,” he laughed.

He leaned in, whispering against my skin, “I hoped you’d be feisty.”

“Get off me,” I growled, shoving against him with everything I had.

“Oh,printsessa. What do you think you can do to me like this? Open those pretty little thighs for me. That’s the only thing you can do.”

“I’ll scream and my men will?—”

“They’ll what? Most of them are drunk or high.”

He had to be bluffing.

I paid for competent men. I paid well.

---