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“Oh, I fucking am. I’m not going to give an inch. I want to know what I am to you.”
“You’re mine.”
“And what exactly does that mean?” Anger entered her eyes, and she crept backward. “You keep saying that, but I have no clue what it means. All you do is confuse me. I need more than statements. I need to understand.”
“It means I love you, and I’m not letting you go.”
“You say you love me, but until twenty minutes ago, you never spoke the words. Plus, why should I believe you after what happened at the club?”
“You keep saying you’re not playing a game. But it looks like you are.”
I stalked her until her heels hit the mattress, and she stumbled back, grabbing my shoulders. However, I caught her around the waist right before she fell.
Setting a knee on the mattress, I lowered her onto the duvet and then caged her with my body.
Her dark eyes burned up into mine. “I want answers.”
“You’re not getting them. Not at the moment, anyway.” I brought my nose a hairsbreadth from hers. “Submit.”
“No.” Her nails dug into the back of my neck, and I grabbed hold of them and pinned them above her head.
Her pupils immediately dilated, and her lips parted, taking shallow breaths. My cock responded, wanting to fuck her until she admitted what she refused to acknowledge.
“Submit, Sophia.”
She clenched her jaw. “Not happening.”
“I know what you’re doing, Sophia. I see it in your eyes. I will follow through.”
“What is it that you think I want? What is it that The Great Damon Pierce sees?”
“You want me to force you into this? You want me to make you submit, punish you, take that control from you. You’ve been feeling out of control, Sophia. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Damon.” The sharp bite to her words emphasized how I understood the root of her turmoil.
“Then what do you want me to do?”
She could hide from everyone but me. I saw her.
And for some fucking reason, she saw me.
“Either make me come or get out.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her. Even pinned under me, she wasn’t going to give me an inch.
“We both know I’m not leaving.”
“Then get to it.”
I looked around me and found a box with what looked to be yards of three-inch wide spools of silk in an array of colors, sitting under a mannequin with what looked to be a form with a half-constructed corseted gown.
Interesting.
“Do you ever model your pieces while you create?” Using the heel of my shoe, I tugged the box in my direction.
“Not usually.” She gave me a weary glare. “I’m not sure I like that look in your eyes.”
“You’re the one who said it was my game with my rules.”
