Page 24 of Nowhere to Run

I swallowed hard.

His hand cupped my ass, squeezing—firm and possessive. I bit my lip, refusing to let the sound slip free.

“You are mine. And I can have you whenever I want,” he growled. He leaned closer, his heat, his dominance suffocating.

“I was going to go easy on you today, you know.”

His lips brushed my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I was going to surprise you. Take you on a nice date.Romanceyou.” He scoffed, shaking his head. Like the idea was ridiculous. Like I’d ruined it.

“But since you keep fighting it—fighting me—it’s time you learned your place.”

His jaw tightened, fist clenching at his sides, his control hanging by a thread. His eyes burned into mine, dark and merciless.

“You’ll know who owns you after tonight,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous promise.

Chapter Five

Before I could respond, he scooped me into his arms, hoisting me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, my ass in the air. I cried out, but of course, no one was around to hear. He carried me down the trail, his grip unyielding as the streetlights came into view.

He set me down, his gaze sweeping over the quiet neighborhood, sharp and assessing, scanning for prying eyes. His grip tightened around my waist, anchoring me firmly in place.

Leaning in, he whispered in my ear, “Stay right beside me. Don’t fucking move an inch.”

His hand slid into his pocket, fingers curling around his keys. A soft electronic beep cut through the still night, followed by the distant clunk of doors unlocking.

I stiffened.

A sleek black car with tinted windows sat waiting just a few houses down from mine, its glossy surface reflecting the streetlights.

“You’re parked on my street?” My voice dripped with disbelief.

He smirked. “Of course, baby. I told you I was picking you up for a date.”

His fingers flexed against my hip, like the thought of it pleased him.

“Then I saw you head out on your run.”

His grin widened.

“Did you get my flowers?”

My jaw tightened.

He was there. Watching me. Always watching, like he said.

“I got them,” I whispered, staring straight ahead, feeling strangely detached from my body.

He nodded, satisfied, his face smug.

We walked in silence toward his car, his grip firm as he guided me forward. When we reached it, he opened the passenger-side door and retrieved an expensive-looking gift bag. Crimson tissue spilled from the top.

“For later,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Reaching into his gym bag, he pulled out a fresh shirt to replace the one he’d used to clean me. My cheeks burned as he casually stripped off his ruined one, standing there bare-chested on my quiet street, completely unbothered by the exposure.

He slid the clean shirt over his head in one smooth motion, shutting the door with a click that sounded unnervingly final.

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