"That's not good. That's the problem." She pressed herself flatter against the wall. "You do this. You get close and everything in my head just...stops."
"Sounds like chemistry."
"Sounds like manipulation."
"If I was manipulating you, would I have stopped when you ran the first time?"
She blinked. "What?"
"In the conference room. After I drained you. You ran. I could've followed. Could've pushed. But I let you go." I put one hand on the wall beside her head. "So yeah, there's something between us. Yeah, your body responds to mine. But that's choice. Not control."
"I don't have time for this." She tried to duck under my arm. "The match—"
I caught her waist. My hand settled naturally on the curve where her back met that ridiculous ass.
She gasped.
"Rome—"
"You're scared," I said quietly. "Not of me. Of yourself. Of what happens when you stop fighting this."
"I'm not—"
I pulled her flush against me. The movement was smooth, deliberate. No hesitation.
