Page 142 of Forbidden Lessons

That way, she’ll lead me right where I want to go.

She turns and sprints down the hall, and I follow, duffel bags and all. By the time she reaches the door at the end of the hallway, I’m on her heels.

Haven grabs the door jamb and swings around, crashing into the wall. As I rush past her into the room, I glimpse her grabbing the door handle and slamming the door closed to trap me inside the room.

Bitch tricked me.

But I’m too fast and too strong and too determined to make her suffer.

I drop her bags, grab the door, and haul it open, dragging her back inside the room before she can let go of the handle.

She whirls around, trying to run out. Her breath hitches in her throat in sheer panic, and I can sense the scream building inside her as I latch onto her hair.

I tug her down so hard she falls on her back with a grunt of pain.

She rolls onto her side and throws me a pleading look as I slowly reach behind me and push the door shut with my fingertips.

Her mouth opens for a scream.

I’m beside her in an instant, hands locked around her throat to stifle the sound.

Haven grips my wrists, clawing desperately, leaving furrows in my skin. Then she goes for my eyes, but I lean back far enough so she can’t reach me.

The muscles under my fingers tense. Her pulse bumps against my palms, fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

“If you’re quiet, I’ll let you breathe,” I murmur.

She’s back to clawing at my wrists, then trying to peel my fingers away from her throat.

“Or I could just keep holding on, Haven. I’m ready this time. Ready to go all the fucking way.” I squeeze harder, and a convulsion jerks through her body.

“Blink twice if you want to breathe,” I tell her.

She goes still, eyes squeezing shut like she doesn’t even want to accidentally blink. I give her a hard shake, forcing her to snap her eyes open.

Her gaze darts frantically around the room like she’s looking for help, for a weapon, for an escape route.

“Do you want to breathe again?” I murmur.

With obvious reluctance, Haven blinks twice. There’s a flash of panic on her face when I don’t release her immediately, then she’s hauling in a huge lungful of air as my hands drop away from her throat.

I hold my hands up, twisting them in the lamp’s light. No wonder I couldn’t see the marks on her skin anymore. Makeup is streaked all over my hands.

When I settle my full weight on her hips, she groans like I’m crushing her internal organs to jelly.

But she goes quiet when I pull out the steak knife I’d stolen from the kitchen downstairs, and deathly still as I lay it against her throat. I saw it back and forth over her skin, drawing a thin line of blood, my eyes glued to hers as the sting makes her flinch.

“Yeah, it’s nothing like that blunt thing I used to carry around the woods, is it?” I twist the knife, dragging the sharp tip to her jaw, then her chin. Lightly enough that I don’t cut her, but from the way she shudders, I might as well have been flaying her.

“Melissa’ll be back any second,” she croaks, and then coughs. “If she finds you here—” Her teeth click shut as I press the tip of the knife against the plush, pink pillow of her bottom lip.

“But you’re going to be quiet, aren’t you?” I press the knife harder, harder, until a tiny spot of blood wells up from the tip where it pierces her lip.

“No,” she blubbers. “Touch me and I’ll fucking scream.”

“Oh,” I chuckle. “But I’m already touching you, Heavenly. I’m touching you in all sorts of places.”

I rock my hips forward, grinding her lower body against the carpet. My cock hardens, thinking this is all foreplay.

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