I buck, thrusting my hips up with all my strength and pitching her onto the floor.
I follow her down, reversing our positions.
From my new perch on top, I wrap my hand around her throat and apply light pressure to show her how easily I could end this.
She glares at me, her lips parted and her cheeks flushed as she pants. Strands of damp white hair cling to her face.
“That all you got?” The challenge comes out breathless but defiant. Stretching her neck, she closes the distance between us. Daring me to do more.
Probably a distraction technique to make me think with my dick again, so she can finish me off.
And I don’t mean in a happy ending way.
My patience snaps.
With one hand still on her throat and the other on her right bicep, I haul her up and slam her against the nearest wall.
The impact rattles the framed paintings and drives the air from her lungs.
Not giving her time to recover, I press my body against hers and use my superior weight to trap her. I wedge my thigh between hers, spreading them wider, locking her into a position she can’t easily break.
She stills, and in the semidarkness, we suck in ragged gulps of air.
Her eyes—dark, bottomless, and brimming with desire—find mine in the dim light.
Raw, undeniable, and completely mutual.
Nika’s dress rode up during our scuffle, the fabric now bunched and twisted. Her legs envelop mine, riding my quads. My thigh presses more firmly between hers, and the heat of her groin warms my blood.
Electricity buzzes in the air between us. Every point of contact sends signals my body interprets as need. I shouldn’t want this traitorous woman, but I do.
I tighten my hand on her throat.
She doesn’t flinch when I lean in. If I moved an inch, our lips would touch.
Loud knocking shatters the moment.
“Hotel security!” an authoritative male voice calls. “Everything okay in there?”
My eyes lock on Nika’s. Neither of us breathes.
The knock comes again. “Security. We’ve had a noise complaint.”
Shit.
My hand is still on her throat, her body pinned against the wall.
Nika’s lips curve into the ghost of a smile that suggests she’s gained some advantage I haven’t calculated yet.
She opens her mouth.
“Not. A. Fucking. Word.” My voice, barely a whisper, promises lethal consequences if she disobeys.
Her smile widens as she whispers back, her breath hot against my face. “If I don’t use words, they’ll barge in.”
Dammit, she’s right.
After mentally running through my options, I release her throat and stagger away. We’re both trapped in a temporary truce until the interlopers leave.
