his things? The secret compartment I’d found in his armoire was only filled with college acceptance letters. Nothing incriminating or even all that interesting, really. I mean, he’s rich. He could get into any college he wanted.
All of his genteel manners are gone, and the fire in his eyes makes my heart race.
“I give you the opportunity of a lifetime,” he hisses, grabbing my wrists. “Of a lifetime, Sasha, and you decide to lie to me?”
“When did I lie?” My voice shakes. Intellectually I know I’m playing with fire but having Finn loom over me brings it home in a way I couldn’t have anticipated.
“Come on,” he growls, holding up his phone. “You could’ve done a better job with this fake fucking card. You can feign innocence all you like, Sasha, but that won’t work with me. I have a photographic memory. I know every name of every employee that works in that casino. You sent me a fake name. And someone had to help you do it. Did you think I’d tell my father and then be made a fool of?”
Damnit. How does he know that already? I had the bright idea to give him a fake employee name to get him off my back and asked Jamilah to doctor a member card for me while he was gone. I assumed he wouldn’t actually know anyone that worked for him anyway.
“No,” I stammer. “It’s a real card!”
“You’re a terrible liar.” He tosses his phone on the side table. “Did you honestly think you could outsmart me?”
“No,” I insist, horrified at how high and small my voice is. “Finn, I don’t think that.”
He rakes his gaze over me. “You don’t know anything, Sasha. And it’s best that you realize it.”
He’s on top of me before I can say another word, pinning my arms above my head.
What is he doing?
His eyes are dark and inscrutable. My chest heaves, but I’m confused by my feelings. I’m terrified, but I want him to touch me too. What’s wrong with me?
He wraps one big hand around my wrists, securing them behind me. He straddles me, my legs between his muscular thighs.
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking.
“Shut up,” he snaps. He rests his hand just above my breasts. “Do you think this is some kind of joke? Do you think P.J. Hennelly would give a fuck that you’re a virgin and be gentle with you?”
My heart hammers, shame sending a flush of blood to my cheeks. How the hell does he know such an intimate detail about me? Or is he just assuming based on how I look?
“I was just scared,” I plead.
“You should be,” he growls, stroking his hand over my breasts. “You’re a beautiful girl, Sasha, and you have no idea what a man like me could do to you.”
A spike of desire shoots through my core. I’m trapped under this powerful man and I don’t understand why he turns me on as much as he scares me. I shouldn’t want him, especially after everything I’ve been through.
But I meet his eyes, and they’re heavy with desire too. For me? It’s hard to believe. But still, a matching desire starts to arc up in me.
What does Finn want to do to me? And what would that feel like? My nipples tighten as his hand strokes across them. It sends a wave of pleasure through me, even with the barrier of my shirt and bra. He watches my face as his hand slides lower, under the waistband of my pants.
“Tell me to stop,” he hisses, his fingers pushing lower until they rest just at the top of my underwear.
“Finn,” I whimper. “Please.”
Please what? Please don’t stop? What do I want him to do or not do? Why don’t I want to say no?
“That’s not what I said.” His fingertips slide under my panties, just barely. “Tell me to stop.”
I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid of making him angrier. Afraid of how my body feels beneath his. But I don’t want him to stop. I want him to touch me. God, why do I want him to touch me?
When I don’t respond, he shoves his fingers all the way into my panties, stroking my outer lips. I suck in a breath. It feels amazing.
“Has a man ever touched you like this before?” he asks, his fingers caressing me gently. “Don’t lie to me.”
I gasp. “No.”
“Good,” he snaps. “How often do you touch yourself?”
He slips a finger inside. Inside me. All the way inside, and