Chapter 8: A Game of Control
955 Words
Amelia’s pulse pounded against her ribs as she yanked her wrist free from Ethan’s grip. Her breath came in sharp, shallow pants, her mind spinning with fury and something far more dangerous—something she refused to name.
"I am not yours," she spat, her voice shaking with rage.
Ethan leaned against the closed door, arms crossed over his broad chest, his silver-gray eyes dark and unreadable. His presence was suffocating, the very air in the room charged with his unshakable dominance.
"You keep saying that," he mused, tilting his head slightly. "And yet, here you are. Still standing in front of me. Still looking at me like you’re waiting for something."
Her body tensed. Damn him.
She tore her gaze away, her nails digging into her palms. "Because you won’t let me leave!"
Ethan let out a low chuckle, the sound sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. He pushed off the door, closing the distance between them with slow, measured steps.
"I already told you," he murmured, his voice like silk wrapped around steel. "I’ll let you walk away the second you can look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing."
Amelia's breath hitched.
This was a game to him. A dangerous one.
She clenched her fists, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I feel nothing," she said coldly.
Ethan smirked.
"Liar."
The word sliced through the air between them.
Before she could react, he moved.
Too fast.
One moment, she was standing still, the next, her back was pressed against the wall, Ethan’s body inches from hers. His hands caged her in, his scent—a mix of dark spice and raw masculinity—overwhelming her senses.
Her breath caught.
"E-Ethan—"
He leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to her ear. "Say it again," he whispered. "Say it while looking me in the eye this time."
Heat curled low in her stomach, her skin burning where his breath ghosted over her neck. This shouldn’t be happening.
She swallowed hard, willing herself to push him away. But her hands betrayed her, gripping the fabric of his shirt instead.
Ethan noticed. His smirk deepened.
"See?" he murmured. "Your body already knows the truth, Amelia. You're just too stubborn to admit it."
No.
This is just manipulation.
Amelia took a shaky breath. "You’re wrong," she forced out.
Ethan’s fingers brushed against her cheek, featherlight, tracing an invisible path down to her jaw. "Then prove it."
She flinched at the challenge.
"Fine," she hissed.
Before she could second-guess herself, she shoved at his chest, creating space between them. Her heart pounded as she straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin defiantly.
"There," she said. "I proved it."
Ethan let out a low hum, as if considering her words. Then, without warning, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her flush against him.
A gasp left her lips.
His hand slid to the small of her back, holding her there, too close, too intimate. The heat of his body burned into hers, the solid strength of him making her pulse skyrocket.
His voice was pure sin when he spoke.
"Not even close."
Amelia’s breath stuttered.
Her mind screamed at her to fight, but her body betrayed her yet again—because for just a second, she didn’t move.
For just a second, she let herself feel.
The warmth of his palm. The way his breath fanned against her lips. The way her own heartbeat matched his.
No. No, no, no.
She shoved him away with all her strength, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "You’re disgusting," she spat.
Ethan laughed. Actually laughed. "If that’s what helps you sleep at night, sweetheart."
Her stomach twisted. Damn him for being so infuriating.
She turned sharply, heading for the door.
But before she could reach it, his voice stopped her cold.
"You think Elias is coming back for you?"
She froze.
Ethan took his time closing the distance between them. "You still believe in him, don’t you?" His voice dipped lower, a mixture of amusement and something far more dangerous. "Even after he left you without a word?"
Amelia’s fingers clenched around the doorknob.
"You don’t know anything," she snapped.
Ethan sighed, standing right behind her now. "Let me ask you something, Amelia."
He reached out, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. She stiffened, but he didn’t stop.
"If Elias was so desperate to be with you…" His fingers lingered at the base of her neck. "Why did he leave so easily?"
A sharp pain shot through her chest.
She hated him for asking the one question she had spent every second trying to ignore.
She squeezed her eyes shut. "He—he must’ve had a reason."
Ethan chuckled, low and dark. "Keep telling yourself that."
Amelia jerked away, her body trembling with frustration, with confusion.
"I don’t need to explain myself to you," she seethed.
Ethan stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender. "No, you don’t."
She turned toward the door again.
But then he said the words that made her world tilt.
"But if he ever comes back…" Ethan’s voice was pure authority, a possessive edge curling around every syllable.
His next words sent a shiver straight down her spine.
"He’s going to find out that you’re already mine."
Amelia’s breath caught.
She spun around, fire burning in her gaze. "I am not yours!"
Ethan smirked. "We’ll see about that."
Her heart pounded too fast, too hard.
She needed to get away from him.
But as she stormed out, slamming the door behind her, one horrifying truth settled deep into her bones.
She was running.
Not from Ethan.
Not from Elias.
But from herself.
To Be Continued
- Writer
