Page 76 of Snitches and Serpents

I simply yank my hand up and grab her wrist before she can even get the strike halfway to my neck. With a firm grip on it, I hold her wrist steady while I reach out with my other hand and pluck the knife from her fingers. It clanks metallically as I toss it to the side. Then I return my attention to Elle.

Her chest is heaving and she yanks furiously to get her hand out of my grip. I flash her a sharp smile while I move her arm down until the back of her hand is pressed against the floor beside her head. Fury burns in her eyes as she struggles hard underneath me.

I chuckle and then shake my head, still astonished by her fight. “Where was this fire in high school?”

She glares up at me while grinding her teeth in annoyance. But she says nothing. Only tries to use her free hand to pry my fingers from her wrist. So I wrap my other hand around that wrist and shove it down on the ground next to her head, pinning both of her hands to the floor.

A frustrated snarl rips from her lungs, and she wiggles frantically underneath me. And because I’m straddling her hips, the move makes her grind herself against my cock.

Electricity shoots up my spine at the sensation.

It takes everything I have to keep it from showing on my face.

Drawing in a deep breath through my nose, I try desperately to compose myself and block out the feeling.

“Answer me,” I demand, trying to focus on something other than how fucking good her body feels underneath mine. “Where was this fire back in high school?”

She lets out another frustrated noise and yanks futilely at my grip on her wrists.

“Do not make me ask you again,” I warn.

Anger flickers in her eyes, and she practically spits out her reply. “Do you really think the mayor’s daughter was allowed to get into knife fights?”

And something about the bitterness in her tone sets my teeth on edge. She has no fucking right to be bitter. She grew up having everything. Her life was a fucking walk in the park. How dare she act as if her life has been hard?

“Aww, boohoo,” I taunt, and flick a mocking look up and down her body. “It must’ve been so hard to be the pretty little rich girl who got everything she ever wanted without even having to work for it.”

Her eyes flash with pure rage. “You know nothing about my life.”

“What’s there to know? You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You’ve never had to struggle. You’ve never experienced the pressure that comes from having to prove that you’re good enough. You’ve never had to experience how suffocating it is to not even have control over your own life. And you’ve never been able to understand that just one sentence can ruin someone’s entire life.”

The words just tumbled out of me. One after the other. Once I had started, I couldn’t seem to stop.

My chest is heaving now.

Fuck, I shouldn’t have said all that. I shouldn’t have allowed her to know what I’ve experienced. She doesn’t deserve to know how I feel.

Releasing her wrists, I abruptly climb off her and get to my feet. Then I start towards where the fork is lying on the floor.

Clothes rustle behind me. And so does the chain. I don’t turn to look. Instead, I just snatch up the fork from the floor.

“Why did you steal it?”

Her voice is like a sharp knife slicing through my soul. Not because of any venom in it. In fact, there is no accusation in her tone at all. It’s the exact opposite. Her voice is soft. Full of genuine confusion and curiosity.

With my back still to her, I squeeze my eyes shut in order to block out the sudden burst of pain behind my ribs. Then I flex my fingers on the fork and straighten.

When I turn back to face her, I find her standing in the spot where I left her. But there is no fury on her face anymore. Instead, her big brown eyes almost look a little sad. I grip the fork so hard that it almost bends in half.

“Because you did steal it, didn’t you?” she continues, her eyes searching my face. “You didn’t get arrested on false charges. They actually found all of that expensive equipment from the school’s chemistry lab in your house.”

I swallow. Fuck, why is it suddenly hard to breathe?

“Yes,” I find myself saying. “Yes, I did steal it.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

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