Page 130 of Malicious Claim

Makros paused, his gaze lingering on her as if he were seeing her nakedness for the first time.

"No," he answered bluntly. "Come here."

But Makros didn't wait for her to move towards him. He reached out, grabbing her wrist in a firm grip, pulling her forward with ease.

A lump formed in her throat as she stumbled into him, her bare skin brushing against his clothed body. The contrast sent a jolt through her, but she had no time to dwell on it before he lifted and threw her onto the bed.

The mattress absorbed the impact before sending her bouncing upward with a gentle jolt. In an instant Makros was on top of her, but she kicked out, twisting her body to the side, her nails clawing at his forearm where the dragon tattoo was drawn.

"Get off me!" she spat, arching her back to shove him away.

Makros barely flinched. He caught her flailing wrists with one hand, forcing them above her head with a single, brutal movement.

"Stop fighting me," he murmured.

Leila bucked her hips, trying to throw him off. One of her legs slipped free enough to deliver a sharp kick at his side. She barely landed the hit.

Makros inhaled sharply, his patience snapping.

He let go of her wrist, gripping her chin hard enough to make her gasp. "Enough."

Leila glared up at him, breath heaving.

His gaze darkened. "That fire in you... It's what makes this fun."

"Go to hell," she hissed.

He smirked. "Ladies first."

Before she could strike, he grabbed her wrist and snapped the thick leather cuff around it, securing her arm against the headboard.

Panic flared in her chest.

Leila twisted, using her free to hand claw at his wrist, but Makros reacted faster. He wrenched her other arm up, ignoring her struggle as he fastened the second cuff.

Her breath came hard and fast as she yanked against the sudden restraint, but they didn't budge.

Makros sat back slightly, and spanked her butt. "Stop squirming."

She snarled, lifting her legs to kick him off, but he caught her ankle midway.

"Nice try."

He yanked her leg down and fastened it with another cuff.

Leila thrashed harder, using her remaining free leg to twist to the side, nearly slipping away from his grasp.

Makros exhaled, as if exasperated. "Leila, Leila..."

Then he caught her ankle and pinned it down, securing the last restraint.

Leila yanked against them, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. The cuffs didn't budge.

Makros sat back, satisfied, running his gaze over her fully bound form.

"Now," he murmured, voice dark with promise, "where were we?"

"You're sick," she spat.

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