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“Guess that’s one way to fall into my arms.”
Chapter 9
Liam
* * *
One second feels like minutes as we stare each other down, frozen in time. But I feel her, skin to skin, body to body. Every inch of me is hyperaware of her. All the hairs on my body stand up, electrified by her presence, her touch, her deepening gaze. A droplet of sweat rolls down her forehead as her pupils dilate.
Suddenly, Jasmine attacks with the knife. I grasp her wrist in midair, stopping the knife just before it enters my throat.
“Cheeky little devil,” I say. “Still trying to kill me?”
She hardens herself against me, but she’s no match for my strength as I push against her, forcing her back into the room. She fights me all the way until I slam her against the back wall and twist her wrist until the knife clatters to the wooden floor.
Where the fuck did she find it?
Her eyes trail to the big fridge in the room, and I follow her gaze. Only when I see the opened lock do I remember I left a giant hunting knife inside. The one I used to cut up some of the meat.
And she tried to attack me with it.
A smirk forms on my lips.
Clever girl.
Trying to find whatever way she can to get out of the mess she made.
When I turn my head to glare at her again, she seems flustered, as if she knows I caught her in the act.
“Don’t steal what doesn’t belong to you, Jas,” I say.
“I could say the same about you,” she rebukes.
I lower my head and snort. “I didn’t steal you.” I gaze up from underneath my lashes. “You came to me.”
“I walked into a trap,” she says.
“Yes, you did,” I reply, not giving a shit. Even though that net wasn’t meant for her, it sure did end up being convenient.
“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”
Well, that almost hurts. “You think you have the guts?”
“I don’t have a choice.” She grinds her teeth. “This will all be over once I put a bullet in your head.”
I smirk. She’s gotten so feisty. Unlike the girl I remember. But I like this new side of her. “You think I’d let you?”
I grab her throat. “I could offer you so much more, yet you choose to want to kill me.”
“Just like you chose to let your own brother die.”
Her words, which come out in a mumble from the tight grip around her neck, are still like a knife to my heart.
“My brother chose his own fate. That wasn’t my decision.”
When I loosen my grip a little, she immediately lashes out. “You made him choose!” she rebukes, her face red and messy like her hair.
“He knew the hatred I felt for Jill, and still he chose to try to stop me,” I reply.
