Page 94 of Prince of Masks
Dray practically tackles me off my feet, arm looped around my middle, and I expect the floor to rush up towards me and slam into my back.
It doesn’t.
A cry of surprise escapes me before I’m tossed onto the edge of a desk.
The meat of my ass cushions the landing, but barely a moment before Dray has shoved himself between my legs and—arm as solid as a metal chain around my middle—he yanks me against him.
I lift my stunned gaze to him, my mouth agape with the fright.
It’s a mere blink before his other hand has my hair fisted in his grip, my neck arched back, painfully so, and his mouth crushing mine.
I freeze.
Head-to-toe, I have stiffened, turned into a bewildered statue on the edge of a desk, legs spread, and my lips smushed against a harsh kiss.
The curve of my heel is heavy on the back of a chair. The wood presses too deep into my Achillies, traps my leg up at an angle, and my other is stuck, trapped between the table edge and a toppled chair weighing down on my foot.
Dray uses the spread of my legs to his advantage. Arm firm around me, he holds me against him—and we are flushed together,fused.
My lips are parted, but not very much.
As his mouth moves against mine, hard enough to ache my teeth, there is no opening for him to deepen the kiss.
And I don’t help.
I blink against him, feeling the pressure of his body against mine, pure solid muscle that feels like a stone wall crushing me.
But I don’t help. I don’t kiss him back.
I am frozen for the attack.
Dray doesn’t like that.
His fingers slip under the hem of my sweater, grazing the prickling flesh of my back, and his lips curl against mine. “This is the agreement, Olivia. Participate, or the deal is off.”
I shudder in a breath, and it’s only as that breath grates through me that a tear slips down my cheek.
Dray senses it.
His lips, smushed against mine, drag to the corner of my mouth—and there, he catches the tear as it falls.
His tongue is soft on my flesh.
He licks it away.
Another tear is quick to come.
I force my mouth shut, then swallow, thick.
“I can’t,” I whisper, trembled. “I can’t—”
Dray’s mouth caresses the corner of mine, slow, mocking in how loving it feels.
Hand snaking under my sweater, his fingers brush over my flesh, stroking me. It’s a fucking delightful feeling, one I would welcome—but not from him.
But I can’t escape.
The truth is, even if I said the deal is off and I tried to get away, I’m not so sure he would release me.
