My hands shot out, desperate to push him away, but it was useless—his strength was devastating and merciless. He caught my wrists mid-air and a low, deranged growl rumbled in his chest as he pinned them above my head with one hand with bruising and immovable grip.
I panted.
"f*****g stop fighting,” he rumbled and his free hand roamed down my naked body, squeezing just hard enough to make me flinch. “I’m not the kind of man you fight."
I knew it. I knew he was not the one I could fight. I couldn’t. I just knew how to survive him, but that knowledge burned like acid in my throat.
Survival meant submission and it was a bitter pill I could barely swallow.
My chest heaved and I thrashed beneath him. My legs kicked out in a desperate attempt to regain some control, but he caught one with a
