Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

his grasp.
Even with my resistance, he pulled my hand over my
shoulder and pressed my fingers into his neck, the pulse of his
vein there throbbing wildly against my fingertips.
He dropped his head into the back of mine, breathing
heavy. “You know what I have to do to myself to get it to
pump like that?” he whispered.
He sounded spent.
It was beating hard, and I could feel the sweat on his neck
under my fingers. But so what? My pulse was pounding, too,
you freak. We just ran up the stairs. What the hell was he
talking about?
“Don’t worry,” he finally said, releasing my hand. “I’m not
going to hurt you. Not tonight.”
I brought my hand down, grazing his collarbone, but there
was no rosary there. And he didn’t have Damon’s scent.
His hold around me tightened for a moment, though, and I
didn’t trust a damn thing he had to say. Then, he let me down,
my feet touching the carpet.
But he wouldn’t loosen his hold.
“I wanna leave,” I told him.
If he wasn’t going to hurt me, then he could let me go. We
had no cameras inside or outside the house, and no one else
was here. No one would know who he was if he left now. I
certainly couldn’t place him.
But then came his cocky response. “Then leave.”
“You’re not letting me,” I growled, trying to push against
his arms.
“People aren’t going to let you do a lot of things, Winter.”
So he wanted me to make him let me go? What game was
he playing?
I was done entertaining him.
“Please,” I said.