Page 102 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“Sure, I’m definitely helping you,” Cassian agrees, cutting me off. “But I wasn’t joking about it. Someone is trying to hurt you, and you have a detective who’s really interested in things he shouldn’t be following you around. How long was I supposed to wait, hmm?” He pushes off of the counter and prowls toward me, until he can reach out and wrap his fingers lightly around the base of my throat.

I hold my breath, eyes holding his as I take a deep breath. Then another one. “Where’s my phone, Cass?” I murmur, not pulling away from him, no matter how nervous I am. My nails dig into my palms at my sides as I hold myself still.

“I’ll give it back to you when I feel like it. You should sleep more, you know?” His hand shifts, moving up so he can push my hair behind my ear and cup my jaw. “You look exhausted.”

“I always look exhausted. Don’t change the subject.” Reaching up, I swat his hand away from my face. “I’m not your victim. I never was. Don’t make me do something that one of us will probably regret.”

“Like what? Tell me you hate me? Or will you ransack my apartment looking for—” I bolt around him, heading for the kitchen and the block of knives I see by the stove. Cass makes a sound of surprise and whirls, his arm looping around my waist before he jerks me back with a surprised laugh. “Really?” he asks, incredulous. “You’re going to stab me, sweetheart?”

“What, you think I wouldn’t?” I hiss, writhing in his grip. Fuck, he’s stronger than he should be. It’s too easy for him to drag me through his living room, and he pushes open one of the closed doors behind the sofa before shoving me into what I realize is a bedroom. If I weren’t so anxious and frustrated, I’d take a moment to appreciate the sloped ceiling made of glass that opens to the sky above Akron. I’d also appreciate the dark blue-grays of the comforter, rug and comforter.

Hell, I might even express my surprise at the live plants he has on one wall.

But not when I’m this worked up.

“No,” Cass admits with a laugh, closing the door behind him. “I think you’d do it, but I think you’d regret it…eventually. But you’re more than welcome to try to convince me in here, without knives, to let you go.”

When he tries to move away from the door, I’m quick to tangle my fingers in his t-shirt and shove him right back into it. I feel the way he tenses, then relaxes enough to let me do it. That infuriates me more; knowing he’s giving me the advantage instead of me earning it.

“Fight back,” I hiss, unsure why I say it.

His eyes narrow slightly, seeming to darken under his lashes as he looks me over. The only light in the room is what’s coming from outside, from the glow of the city lights somewhere below his apartment. “That’s dangerous of you, sweetheart. You don’t want me to⁠—”

“Don’t tell me what I want.” I jerk him off the wall, only to shove him back into it as my heart races. I don’t know why I do it, and I certainly don’t know why I sneer in his face with my heart racing in my chest. “If you’re just going to let me slam you into your door and stand here like a kicked puppy, you should’ve let me grab a knife⁠—”

I get my wish, even though it takes me a few moments to register what’s happening. Cassian spins us around easily, reversing our position, and shoves me onto my tiptoes with his hand around my throat. I gasp, hands flying up to his arm as panic surges through me, but his knee shoves between my thighs, giving me a way to steady myself so he’s not actually strangling me.

“Keep going,” Cass invites, a warning glittering in his eyes. “Keep pushing me, Winnie. Just keep being aggressive and wanting the last word. Keep going down this road and see where it gets you.”

This time, a full shudder travels through my body, and I close my eyes hard at his words, finding it hard to swallow under his firm grip. “What if I do?” I ask finally, my anxiety warring with my desire to push him. “Would you hurt me?”

The intensity in his gaze falters briefly, and something like a surprised grimace twitches at his lips. “Not like you’re implying,” he tells me finally, relaxing his grip just a little. “But I’ll certainly teach you a lesson about your mouth, since you’ve clearly not been taught it before.”

My stomach twists with something other than fear, and with a shock I realize that while I’m still angry and nervous as hell, I’m not actually afraid of Cass.

Without replying, I dig my nails into his wrist, bracing my right foot on the floor as much as I can before kicking out at him with my left. “Oh, really?” He grabs my leg, gripping under my knee and yanking it up until I yelp and scramble for balance. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who decided to kick. Why don’t you settle the fuck down, sweetheart, and maybe we can have an adult conversation instead of you acting like a toddler who isn’t getting her way⁠—”

“Fuck you,” I sneer. “If you won’t give me back my phone, I’ll take yours. Even if that means—” He whirls us around with a sigh, shoving me face first onto his bed.

“What does that mean, hmm?” he asks, prowling around the bed. He digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone while I watch, laying it on a shelf between two plants. “What are you going to do to me, Winnie?” There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes my blood heat in my veins, and I sit back on my knees, panting, before scrambling to my feet.

“I’ll make you sorry you asked,” I snap. Though, that’s a vague way of admitting I’m not exactly sure how I’ll either locate my phone or steal his. But the more I think about it, the more I realize going home is no longer my top priority for the situation. No, I want to prove him wrong. I want the last word, like always, and to prove that Cassian doesn’t get to make decisions for me or boss me around like he’s more than a stranger to me.

But something in me whispers that maybe, just maybe, that’s not all I really want.

“Come on then, princess. Make me sorry,” Cass taunts, lifting up a hand in a literal invitation. “Make me feel remorse for the first time in my life, won’t you?”

That brings me up short and I look at him, brows furrowed in slight surprise. “You don’t feel⁠—”

“Later.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t ruin our game with feelings.” His words make me pause, and I can’t help studying his expression, even when he glares at me with irritation.

“Okay, all right. Don’t get your panties in a wad.” I hold my hands up, fingers splayed in surrender. “I get it, I so get it. You missed me so much that you stole my phone so we’d spend quality time together. Since you figured that’s the only way to make me stick around.” I glance at his phone on the shelf as he stares at me, leaning on the wall beside it.

It’s an invitation.

It’s a fucking challenge.

“I think if I can grab your phone off that shelf, you should give me back mine and pay for my ride home,” I announce, the bed between us as I prop my hands on my hips.