His eyes blaze. “If you don’t let me go right fucking now, I willkill you.”
I plop beside him, legs crossed, head tilted. Still smiling and proud.
I hesitate, but then, I tap his nose. “No, you won’t. You love me, Mr. Rowen Grayson.”
He flinches, my words apparently offensive. He glares, eyes narrowed. “What the fuck has gotten into you?”
I pretend to think, tapping my chin. “Hmm... power.”
Carefully, I crawl up and straddle his hips, a little braver now. No shaking. No pause.
“Charlotte—”
I slap his cheek.
Oh my gosh! I just did that!
It was light. Teasing, really. But loud enough to echo.
I blink. So does he.
“Don’t do that again,” he warns, jaw flexing like he’s biting through rage.
Smack.
Harder this time!
He shuts his eyes tight. When they open, his voice is calmer. Deceptively so. “Okay, you had your fun. Untie me. I promise. I won’t be mad.”
I scoff. “You’re already mad. I know your nice voice. This isn’t it.”
His silence confirms it.
This time I laugh, feeling vindicated, shy, and indeed, giddy.
It feelsgood.
“You locked me up for a week,” I say, climbing off him. “You waxed me. Tattooed me. Pretended to stream me naked to the world. You left me in chains. Do you even know what that does to a girl? Or any person?”
He blinks, then shrugs. “I’d do it again.”
“Why? Why not just... try to win me back like a normal human being?”
His jaw locks so tight, I swear I hear his teeth grind.
I keep pushing. “What did you say after we made love? Before you left me and went to Tampa?”
He mutters, “Good pussy.”
“Lie,” I snap. I whirl, grab a marker from a drawer. “You want punishment? Should I write coward on your chest?”
“Don’t youfuckingdare.”
His eyes pin me in place, the deep emerald and brown colors pierce through my soul. I swallow.
With determination, I pop the cap and press the tip to his chest — to the ridged, perfect muscles that rise and fall with every angry breath.
We stare at each other, the tension palpable.
