Mike didn't let her retreat into the safety of her own denial. With a sudden, rough display of strength, he spun her around, forcing her back against the cold marble countertop of the wet bar.
The impact forced a sharp gasp from her lungs, and he kept her pinned there, his body acting as a living cage. He wanted to see it, he wanted to see every flicker of terror, every spark of unwanted arousal, every crack in the facade she had built around herself.
"Look at you," Mike purred, his breath hot against her cheek as he forced her to meet his predatory gaze. "Look at how terrified you are right now..."
"And yet, look at where you chose to meet me."
"Of all the places in this godforsaken city, you didn't go to a café, you didn't go to a park; you came to a penthouse in a fucking love hotel."
"Don't try to play ignorant with me, Maya. You knew exactly what kind of energy was waiting for you here."
"I didn't," she started, her voice shaking, but she couldn't finish the lie.
