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The weight of his intense gaze sent goosebumps all over my skin.
Instantly, I changed my strategy. Throwing a soggy pillow at him wouldn’t do him any harm.
“Like the view?” I asked sweetly.
“You asked the same boring question at the ritual,” he said. His gaze returned to my face after lingering on my breasts a bit too long. “What do you have that can possibly interest a demigod, mortal?”
“If you’ll recall, your priest corrected you after the ritual. I’m not a mortal,” I said, keeping my smile plastered on my face. “Should I expect a demigod to have short-term memory?”
If I wasn’t a human, then what was I?
I hadn’t had time or mental effort to attempt to sort it out. I only hoped that I wasn’t some freak.
Spotting that fleeting hesitation and insecurity in my eyes, the demigod pounced.
“Then what are you?” he asked, arching an eyebrow casually.
I lifted my chin. It became an effort to keep the smile on my lips.
“Why should I tell you?” I asked as I staggered toward him, swaying my hips, instead of grabbing a sheet from my neighbor’s bed to cover my nudity.
He tensed, straightened, and unfolded his arms from his muscled chest, which stretched his shirt deliciously.
“What are you doing, Marigold?”
“What do you think I’m doing?” I purred, letting a saccharine, sultry smile deepen the curve of my lips. “You should have known the answer when you charged into my personal space unannounced.” I slowed down my tempo, still swaying my hips.
“Well, you can ask me to stop,” I said in an easy challenge.
If he asked me to stop advancing on him or ducked away from my moves, then he was doomed to lose the first round.
He narrowed his violet eyes to cover the smoldering desire in them. He hated me, yet I had an effect on him, which made him hate me even more.
“You dare to challenge me again?” he asked.
I would do more than that, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
My smile grew sweeter. I was two feet from him now. I needed to get this over quickly. The syrupy smile on my face was getting old and cold and turning to yesterday’s unpleasant leftovers.
A few inches from him, I raised my knee and rammed it toward his crotch, as fast and forcefully as I could.
Man, that would hurt! That would teach him a lesson about barging into a girl’s dormitory while she was sleeping, working hard to find her dream lover.
For a nanosecond, an urgent, dreadful thought flitted through my head. What if his demigod cock was made of steel? Then it’d hurt me instead.
Before my knee found its mark, Paxton caught me, spun me, and pinned my back against him. His one hand grabbed both my wrists and held them against my belly, making my fingers dig into my skin. His other arm wrapped around my breasts, and his powerful legs had mine between them, so I couldn’t kick him either.
He had me there, defenseless and furious.
I was faster than any human, but he was a demigod.
“That’s the best you can do, Marigold?” he asked in mockery.
While I’d failed in my assault and was humiliated, I felt his huge erection against my back through his pants.
I could still get some reaction out of him. Maybe I should use that.
Then he twisted my wrists, and they hurt.
