Page 26 of Stalk Me

“And who exactly am I dealing with?” She meets my gaze without flinching. “Because right now, all I see is a man who’s having me followed and invading my privacy.”

“Careful, Sofia.” I lean closer, invading her space. “That sharp tongue of yours might get you in trouble.”

She stands abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. “I’m leaving.”

I catch her wrist before she can move past me. “Sit. Down.”

“Let go of me.” Her voice trembles with rage.

“Make me.”

She yanks her arm, but I hold firm. The café patrons studiously avoid looking our way—smart of them.

“You entitled bastard.” Color rises in her cheeks. “You think you can just waltz into my life and start controlling everything?”

“I think you need someone to control you.” I pull her closer, my lips brushing her ear. “Someone to take you in hand when you act like a spoiled brat.”

Her breath catches. “I am not?—”

“No?” I trace my thumb over her pulse point. “Then why are you shaking? Why is your heart racing?”

“Because I’m angry,” she hisses.

“Because you need discipline.” I lower my voice. “I’d love nothing more than to put you over my knee right now and teach you some manners.”

She tries to step back, but I hold her in place. Her pupils dilate, and her chest rises and falls rapidly.

“You’d fight it at first,” I continue. “But we both know you’d end up begging for more, wouldn’t you,malishka?”

A small whimper escapes her lips before she can stop it. Her free hand clenches into a fist.

“That’s what really makes you angry, isn’t it? Not that I’m controlling—but that part of you craves it. Needs it.”

“You’re delusional.” But her voice has lost its edge, replaced by breathless want.

“Am I?” I stand, towering over her. “Then why aren’t you pulling away anymore?”

Her lips open, but no sound escapes, and the anger in her eyes has transformed into something hungry and dark.

I release her wrist but maintain my position, caging her between my body and the table. Her defiance only fuels my need to break through that polished exterior.

“Such a bratty little girl,” I murmur against her ear. “Is that why you’re acting out? Looking for attention from Daddy?”

She stiffens, a full-body shudder running through her. “Don’t?—”

“Don’t what?” My fingers trail up her arm. “Don’t point out how desperate you are for someone to take control and give you what you need?”

“I don’t need anything from you.” But her voice wavers, betraying her.

“No?” I grip her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Then why do you lean into my touch? Why do those pretty eyes get so dark when I call you a good girl?”

Her breath hitches. She tries to turn away, but I hold firm.

“Stop,” she whispers, but her body arches closer.

“Say the word.” My thumb traces the seam of her mouth. “Run from this. Tell me I’m wrong about us.”

Instead of pulling back, she presses into my touch. Her eyes flutter closed, a soft whimper escaping.

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