32| Arnica.

“You promised me that I wasn't a prisoner here, Maverick. Restraining me to the bed certainly sounds like imprisonment to me.” I whisper, breathlessly, feeling every inch of my skin burning for him.

“Fine,” he says between clenched teeth and turns toward the door to his room. “Have it your way.”

He walks toward the door, and I try to keep my tears at bay, at least until he leaves the room. I can’t believe he wants me to beg him like a dog. When he reaches the door, he comes to a halt, gripping the doorway with both hands. He dips his head and stays in that position as if he is internally fighting with himself to stay or leave.

I sit down at the foot of the bed, my fingers twisting in knots on my thighs, mirroring the knots forming in my stomach. This wasn’t how I pictured him to react when he walked in on me pleasuring myself. I waited until I heard his heavy footsteps resonating through the hallway before I started to touch myself.

The way he stood up to Tessa in my honour turned