“You shouldn’t,” I whisper, not taking my eyes off the words scrawled across the whiteboard, my mind unable to decipher any of them. “But you want me to.” His murmur reverberates down to my toes. He’s right. I hate that he’s right. Hate that I’m so weak, I fall apart under my bully’s touch. His pinky glides down my panty line. My breath catches in my chest. I clamp my thighs together. Wes lets out a low growl. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this.”
