Connor’s eyes slid over me slowly, like he was memorizing my rebellion because it amused him. He did not even respond at first.
He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, calm as the ocean behind him, while I was one second away from combusting with how furious and turned on I was at the same time.
“You are not going to?” he repeated finally, his voice so low it curled through me like smoke.
“No, I am not,” I said, my voice pitching higher because apparently I thought volume could save me from this man.
“I am not just going to walk into Spain wearing some tiny little dress you picked out like I am your personal toy while strangers stare at me and know exactly what you did to me in that bathtub. I am not letting you do this to me, Connor. I have limits. Real limits.”
He took
