She breathes out a shaky breath. There it is.
 
 “See,” I breathe, leaning closer, mouth at her temple now. “Doesn’t feel so bad does it? I knew you weren’t stupid. Knew you’d understand real quick what side your safety’s on.”
 
 I brush the underside of her breast again. Slower this time, relishing the soft cushion of the mound. She shudders and my eyes light up.
 
 I fucking knew it. Knew I could win her over. Maybe I don’t have her fully, but it won’t take as long as I thought.
 
 Trailing slowly back down, my hand follows the dip of her waist to the soft curve of her hip, my hand now fully cupping her side.
 
 She’s so small under my hand. So vulnerable. And I want her so fucking bad I feel sick with it.
 
 Just holding her like this—skin-to-skin—has me strung out.
 
 Breathing in deep, I suck her scent down into my lungs, like it might ground me.
 
 It doesn’t.
 
 “You got no idea,” I whisper, lips brushing her hairline. “What kind of men are out there. What they’d do if they found you. What they’d take. What they’d break.”
 
 My stroke slips further down, tracing the edge of her waistband. Right above the place I want most.
 
 But I stop myself. “I’m not one of them,” I mutter. “I’m not. I’m keeping you alive. I’m… better than them. I’m gonna give you a choice.”
 
 I don’t know if I’m trying to convince her or me, but my hand continues its back-and-forth claim along her waistband. Feeling her soft skin. The warmth. The way she’s breathing fast and shallow.
 
 My other hand finds her knee and she jerks, just a little. Not enough to mean ‘no’,just instinct.
 
 Tracing slowly up her thigh, her legs bare in the tiny shorts she’s wearing, I get lost in thoughts of sinking between those supple thighs.
 
 She must’ve been freezing out there. I’ll keep her warm from now on. Body heat is the best method.
 
 Caressing the inside of her thigh with my thumb, I work my way higher, almost to where I desperately want to touch.
 
 Wonder if she has any underwear on… probably not.
 
 Tortured, I groan and press my forehead against hers. “I could make it good,” I whisper, breathless. “You don’t even know, little doe. I could make you feel things you didn’t think were left in this world.”
 
 And I want to.Fuck, I want to. No one’s stopping me.
 
 “You’ll come to your senses, little doe. And if you don’t—” a dark, humourless laugh slips out, “well… my patience is gonna run out eventually. Best you don’t push me that far, huh?”
 
 Like peeling myself away from something sacred, I pull my hands back. My palms burn where they touched her. My body’saching, desperate, furious.
 
 She’s gorgeous. And I’ll make sure she never forgets who she belongs to. But I can’t push her too fast right now.
 
 Standing again, I pace the tiny space in the cell, raking my hands through my hair, trying to bite back the madness.
 
 I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have touched her. I shouldn’t be thinking the things I’m thinking.
 
 But I am. Because she’s already mine. I’ve decided. And nothing’s gonna change that.
 
 Glancing back at her one last time, still curled in that corner like a wounded thing, it makes me smile. “You’ll come around,” I say with a grin. “And I can’t wait to show you how I’ll make you melt.”
 
 I force myself to walk away.
 
 She surprised me today. Something that doesn’t happen often. And that intrigues me.
 
 Slamming the holding room door shut behind me, more forcefully than I need to, I stalk down the hall and shove the door open, stepping into the lounge.