Page 44 of Yours

“This is insane,” I whispered.

“No,” he said quietly, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face. “What’s insane is how long I’ve let you keep me at arm’s length.”

My body trembled as his fingers lingered near my jaw, his touch light, but deliberate. I hated how my skin burned under his hand, the way my pulse quickened, the way I couldn’t seem to find my voice.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The air between us was electric, crackling with a tension that felt like it might consume me. My fingers curled against the wall, my heart pounding as I struggled to find a response—any response.

But the truth was I didn’t have one.

Because for all my anger, all my defiance, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to stop.

I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of backing down, though.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” I said, my voice more cutting than I felt. “Like I’m some little pawn in whatever game you’re playing?”

Ronan’s lips curled, his gaze flicking over me like he was weighing every inch of my defiance.

“You’re not a pawn, Kiera,” he said smoothly. “You’re the queen. But even queens must learn when to bow to their kings.”

I bristled at that, my jaw tightening. “I don’t bow to anyone,” I shot back, lifting my chin.

“Not yet,” he murmured, leaning in closer.

My pulse jumped, my breath catching as his words hung heavy in the air between us. His presence was suffocating, his dark eyes glinting with something that made my stomach twist in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“You think you’re so intimidating,” I said, my voice shaking slightly as I forced myself to hold his gaze. “But you’re not. You’re just?—”

“Careful, love,” he interrupted, his soft voice soft making my chest tighten.

“Or what?” I snapped, my anger bubbling to the surface.

Ronan’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed, his smirk fading into something colder. He reached out, his fingersbrushing against my wrist as he stepped even closer, his body crowding mine against the wall.

“Now you’re going to find out exactly what happens when I’ve had enough,” he said quietly, his voice low enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I opened my mouth to argue, but his next words stopped me cold.

“Bend over the table, Kiera,” he said, his tone calm and unyielding.

My heart slammed against my ribs, my breath hitching as the command sank in.

“What?” I whispered, the word barely audible.

“You heard me,” he said, his dark eyes locked onto mine. “Bend. Over. The table.”

The room felt impossibly small, the air too thick to breathe. I wanted to fight back, to throw his words back in his face, but the look in his eyes—the absolute certainty, the quiet authority—left no room for protest.

I hesitated, my fingers trembling as I gripped the edge of the wall. “You can’t be serious,” I said, though my voice wavered enough to betray me.

“Try me,” he said simply.

The darkness in his gaze was suffocating, making my pulse race with anxiety. My cheeks burned, and I could feel the heat spreading down my neck, my entire body buzzing with a mix of defiance and nervous anticipation.

I took a shaky breath, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

“This is insane,” I repeated, but even as the words left my lips, I found myself stepping away from the wall, my legs shaky as I moved toward the table.

The polished surface was cool against my palms as I leaned forward slightly, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I could feel him behind me, his presence a magnetic force that drew every nerve in my body to attention.

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