Page 93 of How to Kill Your Rival

‘If you think⁠—’

He lets out a growl that has me morphing into a thigh-based slip-and-slide.

I go for the door. I nearly make it.

His hand pushes into my hair, stopping me in my tracks. I’m so used to being in control that my first instinct is to kick him in the balls.

James twists me around, my back hitting the door as his face breaks into a wolfish grin.

‘Got you.’

‘Fuck you,’ I mutter.

‘Maybe that’s what you need, Eliza. To be fucked like a needy little slut before I put you to bed.’

My initial reaction is to ask him who the fuck he thinks he’s talking to. My second is to spread my thighs and grind against his leg.

My inner horndog wins. Conceding control is still new to me, but it helps that I know he’ll stop if I ask him to.

Our breath mingles as he searches my face. Then his hands are between us, cinching the belt tight around my wrists.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Making sure you behave yourself, for once,’ he says, pulling me from the door and forcing my hands up above my head. Glancing up, I see him open the door enough to thread the belt through the gap before forcing it closed and turning the lock.

The belt is tight when I tug on it.

Fuck.

James steps back and openly admires me long enough that I start to squirm.

‘I must admit, having you at my mercy is quite the rush,’ he says.

‘Who says I’m going to behave?’

A click sounds. He’s taken out his knife, flicking it open before approaching me.

My heartbeat reacts like popping candy on a wet tongue. I don’t know if I’m excited or furious when he steps up and slides the blade tenderly over my collarbone.

‘James,’ I whisper.

‘I’ll buy you another,’ he says, and slashes the front of my T-shirt before gripping the fabric and tearing it open. Good God. I quiver.

Reaching behind my back, he cuts my bra open before yanking it up above my head and tucking it out of the way. I would like to lecture him on the cost of a good bra, but my head’s too addled to form words.

‘Fuck, Eliza. I love it when you tremble for me.’ James drags the blade over my skin, watching as it peaks my nipples. He circles my nipple with the knife until I whimper, before lifting it to my chin and tipping my face.

Every hair on my body rises as I meet those stony eyes.

‘I’m going to make you sleep, Eliza. If I have to fucking exhaust you first, it’s my pleasure.’

The blade stays beneath my chin as he opens my trousers and pushes them down, using his foot to force them off. My panties desert me, too.

I’m naked, my wrists pinned above my head, with nowhere to go. James presses against me, his firm body crushing in the best possible way.

I’m desperately turned on. Slick as an otter’s pocket. The guilt bites. My gaze drops, and James notices.

‘Get out of your head,’ James whispers against my lips.