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It still doesn’t feel like the right move, but right now, I’m a sitting duck.
Run.
Don’t run.
I don’t know what to do. We’re in the eye of the storm. Any move I make in any direction will put us right in it, but I can’t just sit here waiting for him to pounce on me.
My muscles feel jittery and unreliable as I swiftly bring my hand to the side, chopping his wrist and shoving him back, then launching off the side of the lounger he’s not sitting on.
My heart thuds like a judge’s gavel deciding my fate, and as I run barefoot across the expensive tile, I hear his faster, heavier footfalls behind me.
It was the wrong move.
It was the only move I had.
Both things are true.
Neither thought is helpful.
Landon grabs me around the waist, ripping me off my path to the poolhouse and pulling me back against him.
“No,” I cry, thrashing and digging my nails into his arm, trying to make him let go.
My heart is racing, my lungs working to draw breath. His voice is low, but I can still hear him over the ruckus in my body. “You think I’m gonna let you get a door between us this time, Parker? I don’t fucking think so.”
“Let me go,” I cry angrily, fearfully. “Get your hands off me, Landon!”
He doesn’t let go, and his steely grip doesn’t ease. Instead, he tightens it, forcing me even closer to his body as he waits out my thrashing. “You go ahead and tire yourself out,” he taunts. “I’ll wait.”
Furious tears gather at the corner of my eyes.This isn’t fair.
I can already feel my muscles tiring out. The flood of adrenaline allowed me to fight harder than I would usually be able to, but even that wasn’t enough. My skin is on fire and I feel on the verge of collapse, while Landon doesn’t even seem to be winded.
His head is close enough that I reach back and grab a fistful of his hair. I want to hurt him, to make him let me go, so I pull it as hard as I can. He lets me pull until his face is next to mine, but as soon as he wants to, he stops me. I watch the muscles chord in his neck. My body must be intensely confused by all the different stimulation, because a wire seems to cross in my brain and I feel an answering wave of heat between my thighs at the sight of it.
“Aren’t you getting tired yet?” I ask him.
Landon’s green eyes dance with amusement. “No,” he murmurs.
“Fuck. That really sucks.”
He smirks. “You might want to start doing a little cardio, Johansson.”
“You might want to start doing a little less.”
“Nah. I like being able to throw you around.” He loosens his grip on my waist, and I let go of his hair, thinking this is my chance to… speedwalk away while panting because I don’t think I can run right now.
Unfortunately, rather than let me escape, he scoops me up bridal style and carries me over to the nearest lounger.
I don’t want to do this again.
It did not work very well last time.
I let him exert his stupid muscles putting me down on the lounger, and I don’t try to flee this time. I look up at him and watch, my heart in my throat, as he unbuttons his jeans.
Oh my god oh my god oh my god.
Nope, it’s not going to happen. I’m going to figure out a way to avoid it. I just have to… think.
