“I’ll ask you one more time. Give it to me.” Same flat stare. But there’s a spark of something in his eyes.
Like he’s enjoying this.
“Rian—”
He moves fast, reaching out to grab my hair. I gasp in shock and try to twist away but he catches me and pulls hard. I struggle, shoving at him, kicking him, and he grabs for the diary as he yanks my hair.
I twist sideways, slipping his grip, and kick my legs out. I catch him in the legs, and he grimaces and comes at me.
We end up wrestling. His big body shoves me against the boards, but I’m strong, too, and I wiggle and turn and thrash, keeping him off-balance. I grew up with brothers, and I know how to hold my own. And even though Rian’s got a fist full of my hair, I still manage to writhe and fight him off.
But he’s too strong. He overpowers me, pinning me down to the boards one limb at a time, starting with my legs tucked under his thighs, then onto my arms, until I’m splayed and he’s kneeling on me, the diary tossed a few feet away, lying open to the page I’d been reading.
He’s breathing hard and staring into my eyes with a huge grin. I struggle, trying to get out from under him, but I can’t move. The bastard’s too big, and I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says, eyes burning into mine, and I know that look. I saw it last night in the tunnels beneath the city, in that subway room when he had me pressed up against the wall, his hand over my mouth.
That was the look he gave me before licking the blood from my lips and fucking me with his fingers.
His weight shifts as he reaches for the diary and I take my chance. I struggle, get my arms free, and shove him aside. He grunts in surprise and topples over, off-balance from keeping my legs under control, and I leap over him and onto the diary. I land on top of it, clutch it against my belly—
But then I feel him behind me, shoving me down against the boards face-first. I gasp in shock as he tightens his grip and holds me there, chest down, ass in the air, knees tucked in, the diary clutched to my chest. He grabs my hair and holds it tight, and even though I struggle to get away, he still manages to keep me in that position.
If I release the diary, I might have enough leverage to fight him, but that means he’ll grab it and win. I’ll be able to escape from this extremely compromising position, but I’ll give up the book, and I’m not going to let him win.
“Let it go,” he says softly. “Unless you’re enjoying this.”
“Screw you,” I say, turning my face so I’m looking at him. The board is rough against my cheek and he’s keeping me in a humiliating and vulnerable position, but I don’t care. Let him think he’s got the upper hand, the asshole. He can do whatever he wants, but I have what he needs.
I have the diary. I’m going to win this.
“I think that’s exactly what you want,” he says, leaning down to whisper in my ear. His breath is warm against my cheek, spicy and delicious. It makes me think of last night, and I’m dripping wet and embarrassed. My ass and pussy are up in the air, my face against the boards, the diary hugged against my chest, and he’s going to find out exactly how he makes me feel. All he needs to do is slip a hand between my legs and he’ll feel the heat rolling off me in waves.
There’s nothing I can do to stop him.
“You always were an arrogant prick,” I say, testing his grip but it’s iron-hard. “A lot’s changed about you, but that’s definitely the same.”
He chuckles and tightens his grip on my hair. It hurts and I gasp, clenching my jaw against the pain.
“And you’re still as stubborn as you always were. Are you going to make me pry your arms open and rip that diary away? I don’t want to tear the pages, but I swear, Daley, I will.”
“Go ahead and try, asshole.”
He smiles, but instead of yanking at my arms, he runs a palm down my back.
I suck in a breath. Tingling pleasure rolls down my spine as his hand gets closer and closer to my ass. It moves in a slow snaking motion along my lower back, closer and closer, and oh God he’s going to find out how wet I am any second, and I’m going to so fucking mortified—
But he stops and one hand cups my ass. He pats gently, a purring sound in the back of his throat. I’m blushing, my cheeks bright red, but I won’t let go of the diary. I know that’s what he wants. He thinks that if he touches me like this, I’ll freak out and release it, but screw him.