“You left my door unlocked.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “And you thought that was an invitation, did you?”
She looks away a moment.
“Maybe you wanted to test boundaries?” I don’t touch her, even though I fucking want to. “Perhaps you worked out me fucking you is all you’ll ever need? That it?”
She stares back at me. “I… I wanted to know. What will it take to make you happy? You said I needed to. So…” She sucks in a breath. “What will it take? I don’t want to die in this house. I don’t want to die, Nikolai.”
I study her for the longest time, and then, without smiling, I say, “Turn and face me. Completely. Then, Rose, open your legs.”
Chapter15
Rosalind
Ithought I could do it, but I can’t. Terror and desire streak through me in equal measures and I shake. The blatant, empty order rocks me, like he doesn’t want me at all, like he’s just interested in pushing my buttons, in humiliating me. Yet, here I am, letting him, asking for it, begging.
Maybe, if the words came with a touch, a softness, or even rough desire, I could do it. Even a smile, something other than the empty cold, would be enough, but it’s not, and I can’t.
If I give in now, where does it go? How low will he make me sink?
How long before he destroys me?
Finally, I gather the courage to whisper it. “Can’t.”
“Oh, you can’t? I’ve fucking had my fingers in you, my tongue. I’ve seen every inch of you, Rose, and you come in here, asking me what will keep you alive.” His voice drops a little. “I tell you, and you what? Can’t?”
I suck in a breath, trying not to tremble as I try to speak, but words won’t come.
“You’d rather make me unhappy?” His voice is still flat, almost contemplative, and it scares me more than his rage.
“Nikolai…” I swallow again. “You don’t want me. You just want to see if I’ll do what you want.”
“Fucking little brat. Littletease.” His dark gaze shifts over me. “If I do? You think you have a say?”
“Nikolai—”
“Shut your mouth, Rosalind. You came in here, on your own. You want to make me happy? Make me fucking happy. It’s a simple thing. Right now, opening your fucking legs, spreading for me, will do just that.”
I flinch and he laughs.
“No.” One small word from me. It’s not even defiance; I don’t know what it is. The laughter dies, but I didn’t shut it down; no, it ends and he mutters something about what happens to disobedient brats under his breath before he grabs me, pulling me to face him.
I fight him; it’s instinctual, foolhardy, and right then, as the wings of fear flap and beat against my ribs, I try to get away, to resist him, but he has me. His hands are on my thighs now, gripping hard, and I’m sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow.
“Listen up, little girl. You’ll do what I say, when I say it.”
“No! Not—”
“What? Like this?” Nikolai pries my thighs apart as I twist and kick and fight, but he’s stronger than me. Faster. Meaner. Now he’s on his knees, looming over me, holding me as I struggle, his grip smarting against my skin.
He looms over me, not letting go. “I’m beginning to think you get off on this shit. I’m thinking you fighting, denying me, pretending you don’t want me touching you gets you off. I bet if I touch you, you’ll be so fucking wet.”
“I hate you.”
“I’m right.”
He’s right. I can feel my body change, the want, the need, the desire. I feel the slickness come, and I’m not just fighting him, I’m fighting my base instincts.