Page 9 of Kael

Kael caught my wrists easily, pinning them against my chest without hurting me.

“Bria,” he said, voice low. “Stop.”

I kept fighting, thrashing against him even as my body screamed in protest. “You’re sick! You’re a fucking psycho! Kidnapping me, locking me up like some pet—”

He shoved me onto the bed. His voice rose, just slightly.

“Enough.”

The single word cut through the haze I was in. I froze. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it hurt.

Kael’s eyes softened almost immediately. He was soft when it came to me; that gave me courage. I jumped up, dropped to my knees, and crawled toward him on my hands and knees. When I reached him, I grabbed the front of his shirt with trembling fingers and looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes.

“Don’t you like me?” I whispered, trying to make my voice soft and sweet. “I can make you feel good… I can make it reallygood for you. Just give me something. Please, Kael. I’ll suck you off right now. I’ll ride you however you want. Just… just help me.”

His entire body went still.

I pushed up onto my knees, pressing my body against his legs, and reached for his belt with shaking hands. “I’m serious. I’ll be so good for you. Better than anyone else. Just don’t let me feel like this anymore.”

For a moment—just a moment—I saw something dark and hungry flash in his eyes. His jaw clenched hard, and his hand twitched like he wanted to touch me. He hesitated, breath growing heavier as I fumbled with his belt.

Then I leaned up and kissed him.

It was messy and desperate, my lips crashing against his, my tongue pushing into his mouth as I tried to convince him with my body. For half a second, he kissed me back like a man starving. His hand came up to grip the back of my neck.

But then he pulled away, breathing hard.

“Bria,” he said, voice rough and strained. “Stop.”

I didn’t listen.

With trembling hands, I reached down and yanked the thin cami I was wearing up and over my head, tossing it aside. I was completely bare underneath. The cool air hit my skin, making my nipples harden instantly. I stayed on my knees in front of him, back slightly arched, chest pushed forward, looking up at him with tear-streaked eyes.

“See?” I whispered, voice breaking. “I’m right here. You can have me. All of me.”

I watched his eyes devour me.

His gaze dragged slowly down my body—over my breasts, my stomach, the curve of my hips—but in his eyes, he looked like he was fighting every instinct he had. His hands flexed at his sides. His breathing grew heavier. I thought I had him.

But then he closed his eyes for a moment, jaw locked so tight a muscle jumped in his cheek.

When he opened them again, the control he always had returned.

He crouched down in front of me, cupped my face with both hands, and forced me to look at him.

“Bria,” he said. “Look at me.”

I didn't want to.

His fingers curled beneath my chin anyway, forcing me.

“You think I don't want you?” He chuckled. “I've wanted you since before you knew my name.”

My breath caught.

“I want you, but I don't want this.” He gestured toward me as I shook in desperation. “I don't want pain to be the reason you touch me.”

His eyes searched mine.