Page 37 of Nowhere to Run

I froze.

My breath caught in my throat as the weight of his words settled over me. My body still trembled from the pleasure, pressure building where he pressed up tight against my clit. But my mind raced. Searching. Desperate for an escape.

“I called him,” I lied, the words falling out before I could second-guess them. Fast. Smooth. “He deserved that much.”

The image of my phone flashed in my mind—those incriminating texts with Emma. The elaborate plan to make Ryan look unhinged. Adrian absolutely could not see those.

His brow arched, skepticism etched into every line of his face. He didn’t move, didn’t look away, his scrutiny suffocating.

“You called him,” he repeated slowly, his tone dripping with disbelief.

I nodded, forcing myself to meet his gaze. Even as my heart pounded like a war drum.

Stay calm. Don’t slip up now.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice even, my expression carefully composed.

A long pause.

Then—a smirk. More amused than convinced.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone almost thoughtful, deceptively light. “You’re very good at this.”

His fingers glided up my arm, featherlight. Teasing. Like an animal testing its prey for weaknesses.

Then a shift. A whisper against my skin.

“But…”

His lips hovered near my ear, his breath warm, intoxicating. “I know there’s something you’re keeping from me.”

My heart slammed into my ribs. His fingers froze mid-movement. Then—his hand wrapped around my throat. Firm but not crushing. His control over me absolute. His grip commanded every ounce of my attention.

His cock throbbed inside me. Stretching, pusling, owning. A slow, deliberate thrust, then another.

My body betrayed me as pleasure collided with fear.

His fingers tightened—just slightly—at my neck. Just enough.

“I enjoy hunting you down, Scarlett,” he snarled, his voice raw. He fucked me deeper. Harder. The pressure bordered on unbearable, each thrust deep and claiming. I gasped, my pulse skittering wildly as his grip tightened further. The edges of my vision blurred.

A jolt of fear spiked through me.

“It’s all the sweeter when I catch you,” he continued, his voice like poison. Then another squeeze. Tighter this time. I squirmed, instinct kicking in, my hands flying to my throat, clawing at his grip.

Desperate. Struggling.

His hold didn’t budge.

Panic clawed at my chest, my pulse hammering violently.

Then, just as suddenly, he loosened his grip.

Just slightly.

“But don’t mistake my patience for leniency,” he growled. “I won’t tolerate being ignored. Or lied to.”

His words settled over me, heavy and final. Suffocating. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

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