Page 12 of Waging War
Turning my head away from the object in her hand, I prop my sloppily bound hands between us and shove her backward. She falls on her ass with a grunt, distracted long enough that I have time to pin her hips beneath my own.
I lean over, rumbling against her. “You didn’t honestly think that would work, did you?”
“Asshole,” she spits.
Using my wrists like a club, I knock the weapon out of her grasp and reach for it once it thuds beside my knee. Hoping to use the blade to cut through the bindings, I grip the cool metal, then pause.
I can’t help but laugh. “Afork, Hazel?”
She thrashes and kicks for several more minutes as I work my way out of the binding. Eventually, the exertion becomes too much, and her arms fall limply beside her. I take advantage once I’m freed, grabbing both wrists and pinning them above her head.
“Mmm,” I hum, bringing our chests close enough that they brush with each panting breath. Getting in her personal space begins as a way to piss her off—an incessant need to dole out a little punishment for her outburst—but she dares to turn her face toward mine, unaware of the monster who has her in his grasp.
“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to fight dirty.”
She ignores the purr in my voice. “Fortunately for you, I don’t care what you think.”
Good, she’s angry. I think I’ll keep it that way.
It’s impossible to hide how uncomfortably hard I am with her body pressed so close to mine. The warmth of her seeps into every muscle fiber, forcing my body to relax even as I struggle to stay on guard.
Hazel surprises me when I feel the slightest arch of her lower body. The motion is subtle enough that I almost question if it really happened. But then she does it again as if she’s exploring the sensation. When I respond with a gentle grind between her legs, her heart slams so hard against her ribs that it vibrates through me.
Shit. This feels incredible.
Her figure is long with the slightest curve to her hips. But where she was once leaner, she’s filled out with muscle in all the right places.
I release one of her wrists. When she doesn’t immediately try to strike, I lazily trail the tips of my fingers down her torso. “Why do you try to fight me, Hazel?” The question comes out strained. “We both know I can’t give you what you want.”
Her shirt has risen above her hips, and like a selfish bastard, I begin to explore. Wrapping my palm around her side so my thumb touches the edge of her abdomen, I dig my fingers into her back.
She gasps quietly.
I squeeze her hip hard, and she bucks against my cock. “So responsive to my touch.” I bury my prideful chuckle in the crook of her neck as my hand roams up the hard plane of her belly. “You should have killed me,” I whisper against her neck.
Tell me to stop before I take this too far. Before I make you a mistake.
Hazel draws the lobe of my ear between her teeth. Once more, I roll my hips against her, and her pretty mouth pops open with a gasp. I swear she’s just about to nip the sensitive spot just under my ear when she whispers a breathy, “Get off me.”
I freeze, just shy of reaching the tender swell of her chest.
Fuck me. She’s not wearing a bra.
I may have blue balls for the next week, but I’ve never forced myself on a woman, and I’m not going to start now. Standing, I adjust myself and walk toward the light switch by the front door.
Soft white light fills the room, highlighting Hazel in pink cotton shorts with her feet tucked beneath her bottom and her hands resting on top of her thighs. Her hair is messy, with strands falling free from her braid. There’s a feral look in her strange eyes as she studies me.
The sight of her budding nipples peeking through her thin white T-shirt is every man’s wet dream.
Her gaze falls straight to the bulge straining against my zipper. “That’s not happening again.”
I hike a brow. “Afraid that you may have enjoyed it?”
“I didn’t enjoy it. You took advantage of… of my…” Her gaze flicks to the crumpled strip of torn satin lying beside her.
“Your inability to properly bind me?”
A scowl wrinkles her nose. “I know what I’m doing.”
