"You’re impatient," he murmured, lips barely grazing her neck as she squirmed beneath him. His grip on her wrists was loose—taunting—like he *wanted* her to try and fight it.

She huffed, arching against him. "And you're *so* infuriating."

His low chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. "Funny, considering how much you want me right now."

She turned her head away in defiance, but his fingers trailed down her side, slow, deliberate, making her gasp.

"Still acting tough?" His voice was velvet, smooth and smug. "Cute."

She glared up at him, ready to fire back—until he suddenly dipped lower, lips brushing her collarbone, teeth scraping *just enough* to make her breath hitch.

"Come on, baby," he whispered, hands sliding lower, teasing, just barely touching. "*Use your words.*"

But she refused to give in so easily.

So he smirked against her skin, fingers tightening on her waist. "Fine," he mused. "I’ll just have to make you beg."

And oh, he *loved* a challenge.