I grab her arms and pin them to her sides, and she releases a whimper. “Stop fighting me,” I seethe. “Please don’t,” she begs. Her eyes widen with fear, as if she thinks I’ll hate her once I see what waits beneath her clothes. Or at least think differently of her. Her hands go for my wrists again. “If you don’t keep your hands at your fucking sides, Selena, I’m going to grab my gun, put it up to your pretty little head, and force you to strip for me. Your choice.” She’s gnawing on my last nerve.
