Chapter 56 Make me
That glare returns, sharper and more focused than before. "Apologize," he instructs.
I lean back just far enough to look him in the eye, the grip on my neck holding me in place. "What?"
"Say you're sorry."
"For what, specifically?" I ask, my pulse thrumming against his fingers.
"For everything!" he snaps, his voice rising with beautiful frustration. "For having your driver...who’s a massive asshole, by the way, slash my tire and haul me out here against my will. For ignoring every single text and call for two hours while I wondered if I was being driven to my own execution. For acting like anything in my life that doesn’t involve you is irrelevant."
Each word hits harder than the last, "And for treating me like some high-end convenience you can just summon whenever it suits you!"
I blink, watching the fire behind his eyes. He isn't playing. This isn't part of the dance. He’s not posturing, he means it. His hand loosens from my neck, but it doesn’t fall away completely. It lingers, like he hasn’t decided whether to let go or tighten it again. He meets my gaze, mirroring my own words back at me. "What? Don't want to?"
I can feel the heat pooling low in my gut, a heavy, insistent thrumming. The defiance coupled with the control he's trying to exert... it’s affecting me in a way that's utterly ruinous. I reach down, my hand brushing over the rigid length of my cock through my trousers. I suck in a sharp breath, the air cool against my teeth.
“Look at you,” I murmur, voice rougher now. “Got me worked up before I’ve even had a taste of you.”
Kaden’s eyes flicker down, tracing the movement of my hand, before snapping back to mine. He doesn't look impressed. He looks done. He gives a sharp shake of his head and shoves me back, the hand at my neck providing the final push.
"Jerk!" he says, turning on his heel and walking away.
I tilt my head, watching the line of his shoulders as he marches back toward the gravel path. He’s heading for the exit, to a miles-long trek into the middle of nowhere.
He knows I’ll follow.
He wants me to.
I tuck my hands into my pockets instead, a slow, dark smirk spreading across my face. "Where exactly are you going, Kaden? And how do you plan on getting there?"
He doesn't stop. He doesn't even look back. I let out a long, heavy sigh. "My apologies," I call out.
That makes him stop. He stills, his back to me for a long moment before he slowly pivots. He studies me from a distance, his expression guarded, gauging the weight of the words.
"I prefer 'sorry,'" he says, his chin tilting up. "So, how about we try that again?"
I take a slow step toward him. Then another. I watch his eyes track my movement like a hawk following a predator, his body coiled and ready to bolt, yet anchored by a curiosity he can't quite kill. I stop a few steps away, the evening breeze tugging at my hair, and take a deep, lung-filling breath of the vineyard air.
"Sorry, Kaden."
There’s something almost intentional in the way I say his name. Like I know exactly what it does to him. My voice is steady, but I can’t quite scrub the smug, self-assured tilt from the corners of my mouth. Kaden’s eyes narrow, his hands dropping to his sides, balled into fists. "You don't mean that."
"How can you be so sure from all the way over there?" I tilt my head, beckoning him with a look. "Seems like a flawed assessment. You should come a little closer. See for yourself just how genuine I can be when I’m properly motivated."
He scoffs, looking back at the long, winding road that leads to the gates. "I’m going home. I’ll walk if I have to."
"You’re not going anywhere. The gates are locked, the security detail has their orders, and no ride-share app is going to send a car out to these coordinates. In other words," I whisper, my gaze locking onto his with a finality that makes the world around us disappear, "we’re trapped here. Together. In the dark, in the quiet. And we’re staying exactly like this until I decide we’re not."
“Make me,” he shoots back, chin lifting just slightly, like he’s daring me to close the distance. I let out a short, amused laugh, the sound dark and knowing. I study the way his chest hitches, the way he tries to hold that line of defiance even as his body betrays him with a subtle lean forward.
"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?" My voice is a low vibration that seems to settle in the space between us. "To have me force your hand. To have the decision taken away so you don't have to admit how much you want to stay."
I take another step. I can feel the heat rolling off him. “Don’t pretend. I see it. That moment right before you push back. Right before you argue...You hesitate. Like you’re deciding whether to resist...” my eyes rake over him again. “...or give in. You crave the moment I stop asking and start taking."
"You're fucking delu—"
"Come here, Kaden," I cut him off, my voice dropping into a register that isn't a request. It’s thick with the weight of the two hours of silence I put him through. "Before I make you and prove to both of us just how much you actually enjoy it."
He looks behind him, his eyes darting toward the distant gates as if he’s physically wrestling with the urge to keep running just to see if I’ll give chase. I glance down at my watch. It’s somehow already five. The afternoon sun is beginning its slow, golden descent, casting long, dramatic shadows across the vines.
"We’re running behind schedule," I say.
Kaden scoffs, then shakes his head. I watch him, fascinated by the play of light on his face. He looks otherworldly like this...."You were so damn nice to me last night. What could've possibly happened between then and now to change that?"
He isn’t impressed. He runs a hand through his hair, the scowl on his face remaining stubbornly intact. "I have to be back home in two hours," he says, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "I have other plans."
I have no intention of letting him leave. Not when I’ve just gotten him here. But I nod slowly, masking my intent behind a mask of reasonable compliance. "Okay."
The air between us is a pressurized vacuum. I gesture vaguely toward the sprawling rows of the estate. "There’s a lot to see, and it won't have the same impact once the sun goes down. We shouldn't waste the light."
He stands there for a long moment, seemingly locked in a fierce internal debate. I can see the gears turning, the struggle between his pride and the magnetic pull that always brings him back to me. Finally, he takes a step toward me. Then another until he’s standing directly in my space, his chest nearly brushing the lapels of my coat.
"I'm still pissed at you," he points out, the words intended to be a shield.
"We'll work on that."
He mutters a curse, the sound lost in the scant inches between our mouths. The tension is a cord stretched so tight it’s vibrating. Then, his hands fly up, fisting into my collar with a sudden, violent desperation. He yanks me down, his knuckles digging into my neck, and crashes his lips against mine.
It tastes like salt, heat, and the beautiful, edge of his "resentment". It’s everything I burned my day to find. My hand comes up, settling at his jaw, because if he’s going to give in, I want him to feel exactly what he’s giving in to.