Page 45 of Innocent Intentions

The door slams open.

Matty crosses the room in a blur. Before I can react, I’m pinned against the wall. His body cages me in, hands firm and unyielding. His jaw tightens, nostrils flaring, eyes burning with something dark. No teasing, no smirks. Just pure, unfiltered rage.

“Why did you run?” His voice lowers to a dangerous level.

I look away. “You were scaring me.”Lie.

“Bullshit.” His grip tightens. “You were trembling with need. I could feel your heat.”

“I don’t want you.” I whisper.Another lie.

He doesn’t buy it. “Look me in the eyes and say that.” His fingers pinch my chin and tilt my head until our eyes lock. He leans in so closely, his breath teases my lips.

I swallow hard.

“Who the hell would want their captor?” I deflect.

“Who the hell would want their captive?” His eyes darken.

I gulp.

“We’re both fucked up in this situation. That doesn’t change the facts. I want you. You want me. Stop denying it.” His voice drops lower.

I try to deny it, but the words don’t come.

“Just say the words, and we’ll be explosive. I already know you’ll be the best I’ve ever had,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping from mine to my lips, then back up. “And I’d make it just as good for you.”

No. My head is spinning. He’s wrong.

His voice is pure gravel when he growls, “I can smell your arousal.”

I shake my head, denying it.

“So, if I dip my hand in those lacy panties, they won’t be soaked?”

Damn him. I look away. “No.”

It’s a lie. A terrible, obvious, pathetic lie. He knows it. I know he knows it. He knows I know he knows it. But it’s all I have. The only defense I can cling to. My only sense of sanity in this nightmare.

Not a nightmare. A dream. Your fantasy. What you’ve always wanted. A man this crazy about you.

No. I don’t want him. I can’t.

Maybe if I tell myself a few more times, I’ll believe it.

“Fine.” His hand slowly, sensually slides down my body.

His fingers tease my waistband before crawling inside.

I could tell him to stop. I should. But the words don’t come.

His fingers find my soaked slit, and he hisses a breath. I clench my thighs, as he strokes through my wetness. A moan escapes.

His fingers tease my clit in slow, deliberate circles. Pleasure sparks up my spine. Then he stops, and pulls his hand away.

Denial rips through me. I tilt my hips forward, trying to chase his fingers, but his other hand pins me to the wall.

I whimper. His eyes burn into me. Dark. Starving. He’s not just turned on. He’s possessed. Obsessed.

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