He didn't even flinch.
Not once.
He continued to hold my wrist, his body half-lying on the bed as though I hadn't just shouted at him. For a moment, I thought—expected—that he would snap back, that he would match my anger with something just as explosive.
But he didn't.
Nothing more than a faint trace of annoyance flickered across his face before it disappeared just as quickly, replaced by that same infuriating calm.
"You know what I want, Carmen," he said.
His tone was cold.
Detached.
But I was burning hot enough for the both of us.
"You want to kiss me!" I fired back immediately, my voice sharp, heated. "I have never once said no!"
The words came fast, almost defensive, but I didn't care. I watched him closely, waiting—daring him to deny it.
Instead, he let go of my wrist.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Then he pushed himself up into a sitting position, shaking his head once as if I had just proven a point he had already made in his mind.
