Amara's POV

I pushed against his chest, my hands flat against the expensive fabric of his suit. His kiss was possessive, demanding, a silent declaration of ownership that made my skin crawl. I tried to pull away, to turn my head but his grip on my waist was ironclad. He leaned into the kiss, his lips moving against mine with a brutal force that left me breathless.

"Stop," I said, the word a muffled protest against his

mouth. "Please, stop."

He didn't listen. His hands, like two ...