Page 26 of Captive Prize

He laughed again.

“Don’t worry,printsessa. I don’t need to take what’s already mine. Your cunt’s already wet for me. You’ll beg me for it soon enough.”

“That’s never going to happen,” I spat, stomping on his foot.

He didn’t flinch.

My heart thundered. My cheeks burned. Still, I kept fighting.

This wasn’t about want or desire. This was survival.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said, his voice unsteady for the first time.

Good.

That lit a new fire inside me.

“If you’re not here to rape me, then why are you here?” I snapped, yanking my wrists.

He tightened his grip.

“I came for information,” he said. “What I want to know is whatLos Infideleswere really after when they aligned themselves with you. Because it sure as hell wasn’t just your charm.”

I managed to free one wrist for all the good it did; he spun me around and slammed me back against the wall, knocking the wind out of me.

He pinned both wrists above my head with just one hand.

That shouldn’t have been possible.

It shouldn’t have turned me on.

But it did.

His other hand smoothed down over my arm, shivers rippling in its wake, until his fingers curled around my throat, tilting my head.

“You don’t have to fight me,” he said, voice full of dark promise.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Fuck, I’m going to regret this,” he muttered—then crushed his mouth to mine.

It was an explosion.

It blew apart every shred of my self-control.

His kiss was ravenous, primal—and I didn’t just allow it. I fought for it.

Not to stop him.

But to take control.

He let go of my wrists, his hands trailing downward, thumbs brushing the sides of my breasts before gripping my hips, pulling me up the wall so our bodies aligned.

Ishouldhave fought harder.

Should’ve slapped him.

Instead, my hands tangled in his hair. My legs wrapped around his waist.

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