CHAPTER 4

JENNER

“Up,” he ordered.

My knees ached, throat raw. “I can’t—”

“You can.” His grip on my arm was iron. He yanked me to my feet and shoved me back onto the bed. “On your back.”

“No—”

He pushed me flat, my hair spilling across the sheets. His scarred face hovered over mine, eyes dark with hunger.

“You’re ready,” he muttered. “I can see it dripping down your thighs.”

“Liar,” I spat, though my body betrayed me.

He spread my legs wide, the ...