Six

CHAPTER FIVE

(Jemima's POV)

“Khalid...what are you doing?” I asked, my voice was too weak for the glare I forced onto my face.

His hand moved with a swiftness I didn’t expect. He tugged at the belt of my robe, loosening it with one effortless pull.

I gasped out loudly, clutching the fabric against me, panicking already.

“Have you lost your mind? What do you think you’re doing? Listen, I’m not ready for sex yet and I do not—”

But I didn’t even finish the sentence before he seized my wrists, dragging both my hands above my head and pinning them against the wall. His grip was strong enough to hold me, pinning me on the wall.

“Have you lost your mind?” I struggled, anger igniting through my fear. “Let me go, you idiot!”

His eyes were nothing like I’d seen before. I had seen him cold. I had seen him angry, but this...this was something darker.

Something almost feral, and it sent shivers down my spine.

“Will you answer my question or,” His head dipped closer, his breath hot against my cheek as his hand slid to my waist, pulling me until our bodies collided. “I'll make you tell me.”

I glared at him, even though my insides were trembling. “It’s my personal life. I’d rather share it with a dog than share it with you.”

That should’ve made him furious. That should’ve driven him away. Instead, his grip tightened around my wrists, and his gaze fell, slowly, deliberately, to the gap my robe had left. His eyes lingered on my exposed breast, unashamed to stare at it, his gaze heavy, burning with something I couldn’t name.

And my heart beat faster than I could control.

“I love it,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, “when you play hard to get like this.”

Before I could form a reply, his cold palm moved, boldly cupping my left breast.

“Shit!” I gasped, struggling against his hold, twisting my body as heat shot through me—not desire, but shame, rage, fear all combined into one.

“What you are doing is not right!” I snapped at him.

“Will you say it now?” he asked, his thumb dragging slow circles over my nipple, teasing me, taunting me before pinching it so hard.

Fuck! I sucked in my breath, bit my lips torturously. And I felt it, a white liquid slipped down from my pussy lips.

“Khalid, stop it!” I screamed, my voice cracking against the heavy air.

But he only smirked, his lips curling like the devil himself. His face was too close, his eyes drilling into me.

“If I force you to say it, you'll scream the whole night and no one will save you from me.”

I froze, breath caught in my throat, the words slamming against me harder than his grip. My whole body tensed, trapped between the wall and his frame.

His hand shifted, fingers trailing lower, hovering, almost—almost touching me where I refused to let him.

I sucked in a sharp breath, my entire body trembling under his weight, my mind screaming NO.

And he stopped in between my thighs.

My eyes widened, my lips parted, and the world seemed to hold its breath with me.

Khalid's smirk deepened, cruel and deliberate, as his thumb dragged one last slow circle over my nipple before sliding away.

Then his hand moved lower, his eyes not leaving mine for once.

What's he doing? I never thought he'd be like this, wasn't he acting like a gentleman earlier?

“Khalid, don’t...” My voice cracked, the warning was nothing more than a whisper.

But he didn’t stop. His hand traced lower, down, down—until the fabric of my robe barely shielded me. His knuckles brushed the edge of my thigh, his palm hovering so close, so dangerously close, that one wrong move would have him touching me where he was not supposed to.

Why is he so desperate to know? Though he didn't show any signs of desperation.

If he pressed just a little further, if his fingers slipped just an inch down, he would be touching my clit.

And God if that happens, I'm doomed then.

“Will you talk now, Jemima?” he whispered, the sound of my name on his tongue more dangerous than a scream.

I can't let him touch me like this, it's best I say something to make him back off.

“My boyfriend hurt me.” I told him.

“What is his name?” he asked and I glared at him.

“You are asking too much...” Before I could finish his hand slipped inside me.

My biggest fear is coming true.

“You're so wet for me.”he whispered darkly and I swallowed.

“His name is Davis...”

That was enough to stop him, even if my clit dampened his fingers. I can't believe I was wet for a man I hated so much.

But he said nothing.

Not even a word. Then why did he ask?

His expression gave away nothing either. No smirk, no taunt, no cruel laugh like I expected.

Slowly, he released my wrists. His warmth vanished from my skin as he stepped back, his gaze still burning into me. I pulled my robe tighter, hugging myself as if that thin fabric could shield me from him.

And he turned. Just like that. Without a sound, without looking back, he walked out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

The silence that followed was deafening.

I pressed my back against the wall, my hands trembling, my heart slamming so hard against my chest that it hurt. His silence felt heavier than if he had yelled, darker than if he had whispered filth in my ear. Because now, I didn’t know what he was thinking. I didn’t know what he was planning.

And that terrified me more than anything else.