Her jaw clenches as she tries to push me away, but I don’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, I lean in until my lips hover just above hers, taunting her. “You’re mad at me. Good. Slap me.” I pause, my voice dropping to a low growl. “But don’t you dare go silent like this.”
She freezes, her breath catching as she glares up at me, defiance burning in her eyes. I can see the conflict there—the urge to hit me, to scream at me—but she’s holding back. She always does.
“Do it,” I whisper, my lips brushing against her cheek, my hand gripping her waist tighter. “Slap me, Amanda. You want to, don’t you?”
Her eyes flash with fury, and she tries to twist out of my hold, but I press her harder against the door, enjoying the way her body shudders under my control. “You hate this, don’t you?” I whis
