I twisted my ankle free from his grasp with a sharp jerk, planting my foot back on the floor but not retreating an inch, my own glare matching his intensity as heat pooled low in my belly, turning his rejection into fuel that made me bolder, wetter, more determined to crack that facade.

  He’s strong, yeah, but I can feel how his grip lingered, how his thumb brushed my skin like he didn’t want to let go—deep down, he wants this mess just as bad as I do, wants to pin me down and rut like an animal until we’re both raw and screaming.

  “Make me? Please, Michael. You’re the...