“You wanted a response,” I continue. “And you got it. But you didn’t know which version of me you’d get.”
Her lips curve, like she’s proud of what she’s done.
“Tell me,” I say softly. “Was this the version you were hoping for?”
She exhales slowly, eyes never leaving mine. “Yes.”
The word hits harder than it should.
“Things are going to go a little differently now.”
She stares at me, not saying a word.
“You don’t move unless I tell you to. You don’t touch unless I say you can.”
Her breathing accelerates. Her eyes darken with interest.
“And you won’t be breaking into my house anymore,” I add, calm and controlled. “I’m taking you with me.” Her pulse goes wild beneath my thumb. “And you don’t get to leave without permission.”
She stares at me, breathing hard.
I smile under the mask. “Understand?”
She nods.
I pull my hand away slowly—deliberately—leaving the absence behind like a brand.
“Stay right there,” I say.
I back away, my eyes on hers. She doesn’t move.
Good fucking girl.
I step into the kitchen.
The quiet stretches.
I imagine her standing exactly where I left her—back against the wall, pulse racing, wondering what I’m about to do.
Won’t she be surprised when she sees this?
I return with a silver knife from the butcher block. I hold it up so she can see it.
“Your dad’s not here?”
She shakes her head, eyes still on the blade. Tongue darting out, licking her bottom lip.
I step closer, my boots thudding against the hardwood floor. She’s still pressed against the wall, exactly the way I left her.
“Good.” In a flash, I grab her leggings and yank them down to her ankles, just like the male character did to the female in the book she wrote.
She gasps, eyes shining.
I stare at her, seeing the desire bloom. The shock changes to a salacious smile.
“You like this, don’t you, my precious vine.”
She shudders when I press my lips next to her ear, gently grazing it.
