He closes his fingers around the column of her throat, backing her against the wall, and cuffs her wrists, holding them far above her head. His other hand digs into her hip, knuckles white with the effort for a second before he traces the curve of her waist, and stops on her ribcage, thumb under her breast. He dips his head, mouth below her ear, teeth grazing the soft skin. “On. Your. Knees,” he orders, each word quieter but more powerful than the last. His hold on her wrists loosens as if he expects her to obey.
