Page 22 of Wolf.e

Wolfe studies my reaction with a hint of a smirk and embarrassment floods my chest, yet he continues, letting the back of his knuckles run over my cheekbone then down to the column of my throat. He’s touching me. I just met this man today and he’s touching me.

He pauses with his knuckles at the nape of my neck, feeling my thundering heartbeat under his fingers.

“There’s that smart mouth again. You use it freely, yet you’re terrified, little hummingbird.” His eyes meet mine as he flips his hand and grips my throat. His palm covers all of it and I understand instantly why he’s given me that name… he can see and feel my heart beating a million miles a minute. His fingers slide back into my hair, the pads of them trace my scalp before he grabs a fist full and pulls my neck taut, bringing my body forward to him so we’re flush, and I have nowhere to look but into his gray eyes.

Does he think I came here to have sex with him? Instinct takes over and I reach up and smack him in the face. The sound tells me it was hard, but I think it hurts me more than it hurts him, because he doesn’t even flinch.

He grips my hair tight enough for me to cry out. It burns like he’s ripping it out at the roots.

“And here I thought you were ready to shed this perfectly practiced little exterior… but now, I see. The hummingbird just wants to fight…” he growls, a sadistic light fills his eyes and for the first time I see emotion there.

I swing again, knowing he will just retaliate but I can’t help myself.

Some dark action inside me takes over. His hand slides back to my throat, encompassing all of it as my hand connects with his cheek in the same spot it just did moments ago. He squeezes only the sides of my throat so controlled and practiced I instantly see stars.

He’s right, I am terrified but something else is happening. Something I couldn’t understand if I tried. I squeeze my thighs together as my core beings to ache, even under his unpredictable touch.

It sends my blood racing, causing me to let out a tiny moan I have no control over. The feel of him touching me is everywhere all at once. The warmth from his lips comes so close to mine as he leans in, his cedarwood and spice scent mixed with fresh, clean soap singing to me.

“And he looked at her the way all women want to be looked at by a man,” Wolfe’s deep voice says evenly as he keeps his hand tight to my throat while grazing the knuckles of his free one down my body, over the peak of my hardened nipple.

I’m helpless and I shudder.

Wolfe doesn’t stay at my breast. He continues down over the curve of my waist. His fingers graze my forearm slowly until his hand wraps around the book I’m still holding. He pulls it from me roughly.

“Nick Carraway,” he says, holding up The Great Gatsby, as if I didn’t know that was the narrator's name. He places the book back in its home on the shelf without loosening the grip on my throat.

“This isn’t a library. So when you realized this was my room, tell me why you stayed, Brinley?”

I hate that I love the way my name sounds rolling off his tongue.

“Please, just let me go, I’m sorry I came in here, I didn’t know it was your room. I saw the books… I was curious,” I say between gasps.

I begin to claw at his hold around my throat to no avail, claustrophobia setting in. I scratch at his forearms in my tipsy state as he holds me tight enough that it’s hard to breathe but not impossible.

All the while, the sensation of my pussy throbbing continues and I seriously question my sanity.

Those gray eyes are stormy now and dark staring into mine. I'm surprised when Wolfe’s grip loosens and his thumb begins to move back and forth over the center of my throat, sliding upward so it rests below my ear. The graze continues there.

“I think you knew it was my room the moment you came in and you wanted to be caught,” he says, coating me in truth from my head to my toes. The sensitive spot he’s touching with the calloused pad of his thumb in slow circles almost has my eyes rolling back.

“You think you should fight your desires. The world has been telling you your whole life you should fight, but you don’t want to. You want me to touch you like this.” His eyes roam over me as if he’s trying to understand me.

I watch as a decision is made, and he begins to slide his other broad palm up my outer thigh.

Wolfe is a man in control, his breathing is calm and even, but his normally light eyes are so dark I can’t help but lose myself in them. I’m totally at his mercy. I pant faster as his eyes continue their search.

“Having my eyes on you excites you,” he observes.

I clench my thighs together as his grip around my neck deepens and heat spreads through my core with every word, every touch. I fight it with everything in me. “Let me go.” I croak out a final attempt, my inhibitions lessen by the second.

“You can fight me if you want to, little hummingbird.” Wolfe tilts my head back, exposing the column of my throat to him. He brings his lips down to my pulse point and kisses me there, just once and I cave. Everything is heightened, the scruff of his beard and the contrast of his soft lips when they connect to my skin is like the static of an electric shock. I feel everything. My aching clit, my clothing against my skin, the air around me, startlingly cool as the warmth of his mouth dissipates, and his delicious breath draws me in.

“Fight,” he commands in an even deeper baritone. “And I promise, it will only make your pleasure sweeter.”

We lock eyes for only a second as I decide, a flurry of activity and dark fantasies takes over without a thought in my mind. I try to knee him, but he blocks me and winds his hand back in my hair. I smack him again, but he lets go of my hair and quickly lifts both my wrists overhead gripping me one-handed with the same strength he held my throat. I’m no physical match for him but I have to try, don’t I?

His words settle with me… I’m fighting because I’m told to.

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