Chapter Six — Taming the Fire
603 Words
Rhys didn’t move.
But his presence was suffocating.
The hallway was silent, thick with tension, the only sound the frantic drum of my pulse.
His grip on my wrist wasn’t tight, but it was firm. Unrelenting.
And the worst part?
I let him hold me.
I should have yanked away. I should have fought.
But something in his touch—the quiet possessiveness, the weight of his gaze—held me still.
His lips tilted into a smirk.
“Say that again,” he murmured.
My breathing hitched. The air between us felt charged, electric.
Rhys was waiting. Testing.
Daring me.
And I couldn’t back down now.
“I said—” I lifted my chin, voice steady, despite the wildfire beneath my skin. “Then do it.”
Punish me.
A flicker of something dark passed through his eyes.
“Careful, Naomi,” he said. His voice was like smoke. “You might not like what you’re asking for.”
My stomach twisted.
Because wasn’t that the problem?
I might like it too much.
---
He didn’t give me time to react.
One moment, I was standing there—challenging him.
The next—I was against the wall.
Trapped.
His arms caged me in, his body an unmovable force. Heat radiated from him, searing me through my thin dress.
I gasped.
But he only smirked.
“Not so bold now, are you?”
I hated that he was right.
That my body betrayed me, shivering at his closeness.
I forced myself to meet his gaze. To pretend I wasn’t burning.
“You think you scare me?” I whispered.
Rhys exhaled a quiet laugh.
Then, he leaned in.
His lips barely brushed my ear. “No.”
The single word sent shivers down my spine.
“I think I intrigue you,” he continued. His hand traced down my arm, fingers featherlight, teasing. “I think you like this game more than you want to admit.”
My breath caught.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
And Rhys always knew when he had me cornered.
---
His fingers trailed lower, brushing against the bracelet on my wrist—a reminder. A claim.
“You still haven’t thanked me,” he murmured.
I swallowed hard. “For what?”
His gaze darkened.
“For keeping you safe.”
For owning you.
The unspoken words hung between us.
I refused to give in.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I said.
Rhys’s smirk sharpened. Predatory.
“And yet, here you are.”
His fingers lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him.
The intensity in his gaze was suffocating. Consuming.
“Do you want me to let you go?” he asked.
I should have said yes.
I should have lied.
But the words stuck in my throat.
Because we both knew the truth.
I wasn’t ready to run.
And Rhys?
He would never let me.
His lips brushed against my temple, soft—a contradiction to the way he held me captive.
“Good girl.”
I shuddered.
Not from fear. From something far more dangerous.
---
That night, I didn’t sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt him.
The way he had looked at me.
The way he had touched me—not roughly, but with intent. With possession.
Like he knew I was his.
And maybe…
Maybe some part of me was starting to believe it.
I turned my face into the pillow, heat crawling up my neck.
I hated him.
I hated him.
So why did I feel like I was the one falling into his trap?
- Writer
