I felt like my blood was boiling as I struggled to pull away from him, but he yanked me closer, his hot breath grazing my ear.
"You've got some nerve, pony," he whispered, the words dripping with menace as the cold steel of a knife skimmed the exposed skin of my body.
I shuttered under him.
He moved it up to my chest, then slowly, deliberately, brought it down. Panic surged through me as I felt the sharp edge of the knife tearing at my dress.
His hot lips on my earlobe, giving it a little bit.
I quickly tore off the night robe and handed it to him, my voice trembling. "I'm sorry, please don't hurt me," I begged, my fear so thick I could barely breathe.
A wicked smile curled on his lips as he took the robe and tossed the knife aside. With one swift motion, he cleared everything off the table—glass crashed to the floor, but he didn't seem to care. Then, without a word, he sat me down on top the table, his gaze never leaving the night robe he held in his hand.
