His hand pushed up the hem, up over the edge of her ass. She felt the scrape of the sequins against her skin. She was very still.

“What should I do to you, Zilla?”

“Is this another game?”

“Does it feel like a game?” He pressed the hard length of his cock against her thigh.

“Is this a lesson?”

There’d been a lot of those. Lessons on fighting. On control. On focus.

His hand stroked her skin, squeezed her ass and she could not help but shift on the bed. Arching into him and then pressing down into the mattress.

“No,” Jacob said. “Not a lesson. You’ve learned everything I can teach you.”

“Then what are you doing?” she whispered.

“Answer my question, Zilla. What should I do to you?”

There were a thousand answers in her mouth. A whole spectrum of dirty things. She swallowed them back down.

He shifted, straddling her legs, one hand still on her back, holding her down. Though that was just for show. She wasn’t fighting him anymore.

“I want to touch you,” he said. “I have wanted to touch you since the moment I met you.”

She closed her eyes, refusing to cry. “Don’t lie.”

“Oh, Zilla. It’s not a lie. I’m sorry I ever made you think it would be. I am…consumed by you.”

He pushed the dress up higher, the whole of her lower body naked. He slid a finger down the length of her spine. She held her breath. Dying and dying and dying.

“I would touch you here,” he said.

His finger went over the bunched-up hump of her dress down the top of her ass.

“Here.”

And then down between her legs. “Especially here.”

Oh my god. He was going to do it. He was actually…

They both made a sound as he touched her pussy. Relief. Excitement.

“Jacob,” she breathed, torn in half by wanting this and knowing it was only going to end in heartbreak.

“I told you not to come here,” he said and she stiffened.

A lesson. It was a lesson. Of course, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t desire for her. It was just another fucking lesson. Consumed. My ass.

“Get off me.”

“No.”

She tried fighting him again. Tried to buck him off, twisting. Using her teeth and nails and all she managed was to get flipped over on her back, her arms trapped by her sides, her hair all over her face.

“I told you not to come here. That it wasn’t worth it. That you only wanted trouble and the Morellis are too much trouble.”

“And I told you I had to,” she said, blowing her hair out of her face. “That girl—”