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Drake.
I'd run straight to him.
18
Daphne
I flailed my arms, trying to grab ahold of something anything to stop my fall, but he caught me. He'd been waiting for me.
"Let me go."
He smirked. "That's not going to happen, Daphne. Why won't you just stay put?"
"You might as well let me go. I will just keep running."
He chuckled as he carried me back up the stairs. "And I'll keep hunting you down. You are a feisty hellcat. I'll say that."
All I knew was he was carrying be back to doom. I flailed again trying to reach for any doorknob. Another way out. Another chance for escape.
When one knob turned, I held on for dear life, and that forced him to a grunting stop.
"Of course you want to go in there." To my surprise, he stopped and opened the door. Then placed me on my feet.
The room was pure masculine charm. While the rest of the house harkened to a different time, with a cozy updated flair, this room was all masculine with floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the woods beyond and a massive bed in the center with dark wood accents highlighting the modern design.
I swallowed hard. "Whose room is this?"
There was a beat of silence, only serving to add more crackling tension between us. "Mine."
My gut twisted. How was my luck this horrifically bad? How?
My heart racing, panic seizing me, I still tried to fight. I almost landed a blow too, but he blocked me with ease.
"You have to stop," he growled.
I shook my head. "No. You have to let me go. I have people who need me and hell, I don't want to die."
Our little fight was Kitten vs. Panther. Two guesses who won.
I wasn't sure what was more humiliating, the fact that I hadn't gotten very far, the fact that I had tried to pick an electronic lock, or the fact that he had scooped me up as if my attack had been so minor that it had barely registered as an actual attack.
He chuckled and wrapped his arm lightly around my waist, pulling me off my feet. I thrashed until he finally wrapped his other arm around my middle as well, this time catching both my hands, giving a whole new meaning to ‘catching these hands.’
"All right, that's it." His breath was ragged against my ear, and to my chagrin, heat pooled in my core, and I had to squeeze my thighs together to stop the pulsation.
He blocked my blows easily. "Easy, hellcat," he muttered while picking me up as if I weighed nothing and throwing me onto the bed.
I gasped, my heart racing then tried to scramble off, but he was already beside me, his eyes blazing with something that made my insides quiver. "You're not going anywhere."
I had no idea where I got the courage, but I reached my hand back and slapped him with all the force I could muster. He barely moved, but the muscle in his jaw ticked. I tried to hit him with my other palm, but he blocked me easily, then drew my hand above my head to manacle both my hands with one of his large ones.
The exact same position we'd been in last night. When I'd felt the thick length of his erection pressing into me.
Kind of like now.
His brow furrowed as he scowled down at me. "Why are you like this?"
I muttered softly through my quivering lips, "I hate you."
