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"You climbed into my bed." Closer now. Mouth near my ear. "Wearing that fucking shirt. Asked if I thought about you. Then spent an entire day making it impossible to think about anything except—" "You have no right to command me!" Each word punctuated with another hit. "No right to act like you own me when you won't even admit you want me! No right to—" He caught my wrists mid-swing. One second I was attacking him. The next my back slammed against the rough barn wall hard enough to knock air from my lungs. Wood scraped through my tank top. His body caged mine—close enough that I could smell whiskey and anger and desperation. "No right?" His voice dropped to that dangerous register. But this time it was shattered. Control is completely gone. "You think I don't want you? You think I ran to that bar for any fucking reason except trying to stop wanting you?" His laugh was bitter. Sharp. "I want to pin you against every surface in my house, princess. Want to show you exactly how you can belong to me. Want to stop pretending I'm not completely fucking gone for Richard Ward's daughter." And then he kissed me. Greedy and claiming. Branding me with his mouth in ways that screamed possession louder than any words. This wasn't the tentative bedroom kiss. This was weeks of denial exploding into something raw and desperate. His tongue swept in—demanding, taking. I kissed him back with equal fury. Teeth catching his bottom lip hard enough to hurt because I wanted him to feel this. Feel what he'd been doing to me. The groan that came from his throat hit me somewhere south of rational thought and landed right between my thighs. When he pulled back we were both breathing hard. His eyes were completely black. Pupils blown, swallowed hazel almost fully. Whatever control he'd maintained—gone. "Did your daddy send you to re-education?" His voice was rough. Almost cruel. "To learn humility? How to be a good girl?" "Are you really that eager for me to defile you with my cock?" The words were crude. Raw. Exactly the kind of thing that should've shocked me into sobriety. But they didn't. They made me want him more. Made me want to prove that I wasn't too young or too innocent or too whatever excuse he'd been using to keep distance. "Yes." Came out desperate. Needy. Completely honest. "God yes. I want you to take what we both know you want."