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“He’s your goddamn brother,” she says. “Don’t you feel anything?”
My nostrils flare as I lean in closer. “You think I don’t feel?”
There’s a short moment when the only sound filling the room is our mingling breaths.
Her lips part. “You’ve shown me nothing but hatred too.”
As if she twisted the goddamn knife while it was still stuck in my heart. Goddamn.
BANG!
I slam my fist into the wall.
She jolts up and down from the scare.
“You’re wrong,” I say through gritted teeth. “Dead wrong.”
“Why else are you keeping me here like a goddamn prisoner?” she retorts.
“You came here out of your own free will,” I reply, my voice hoarse with emotions I don’t want to feel. “You chose this, just like your sister and my brother made theirs.”
A fire burns in her eyes. “I didn’t choose to be locked up here.”
“Shouldn’t have tried to fucking shoot me then,” I reply.
This shuts her up for a moment, but the disdain never leaves her face. “Fuck you,” she spits after a while.
“Oh, I’ll make you beg for that, trust me,” I growl back.
Her pupils dilate as if she’s questioning whether I’d actually dare or if I’m just bluffing.
So I lower my hand from her neck to her chest while my other hand is still firmly planted on the wall behind her. “And when I do, I will hear you scream my name.”
Her whole body vibrates as my hand slides down her tit, achingly slow across her nipple, which she’s tried to hide behind her ripped-up shirt, and farther down across her navel to the place she once thought was forbidden.
But nothing is off-limits to me.
Not anymore.
I remember the way I felt around her before the accident. Constricted. Chained. Like an animal, caged for his own well-being. But I could smell her heat from a mile away.
The second I touch her sensitive parts, she writhes, despite the rage seething from her eyes.
She wants this.
Badly.
If only she didn’t fight it like the pretty little princess her parents made her out to be.
“You’re mine now, Jas,” I murmur, my hand sliding up and down, toying with her straight through the fabric of her pants. “Mine to do with as I damn well please.”
“You’re sick,” she retorts, but all it does is make me laugh.
“Maybe I am … or maybe I’m just tired of following the rules,” I reply, and I swipe my hand up and down her pussy, just like before when she melted in the palm of my hand.
Just a single push against her clit has her squirming right up against that wall, and the mere sight of her makes me hard in an instant. It’s been a while for me, but it has never, ever been as sexy as it is with her.
Maybe it’s the absolute look of hatred in her eyes, or maybe it’s the way her body seems to beg to be forced to surrender.
