He was only toying with you,I tell myself harshly.And you allowed yourself to get played like a damn harmonica.
In theory, I’m smart enough to know that men like him are nothing but trouble — maybe served up with a side of a few screaming orgasms, but trouble all the same. Unfortunately, in reality, it’s a lot harder to ignore the ache spreading through my bloodstream like a lethal dose of heroin.
Even without looking at him, I know he’s watching me. The weight of his stare rubs my nerve endings raw. I hope he can’t see the red staining my cheeks in the dark: evidence of just how thoroughly he managed to work his way beneath my skin in a few brief moments.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I whisper, eyes dead ahead.
There’s a heavy pause. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to guess what color my underwear is.”
“Love, I don’t need to guess. That skirt is so short, all I’d have to do was lean forward to find out.”
My eyes roll so hard, I’m surprised they don’t get lodged in the back of my skull. “Honestly, of all the people I could’ve gotten abducted with, it figures I end up with someone like you…”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Youreallyshouldn’t.” I shake my head, voice dropping to a disgruntled mutter. “Apparently the horror of being grabbed by beefy men in bad suits and shoved into an SUV like a scene out of a bad James Bond movie wasn’t traumatizing enough.No!The true torture is an hour-long car ride in the company of an unbearable alpha male with a chip on his shoulder the size of the royal treasury.”
“You know, that’s not the only thing the size of the royal treasury…”
“You’re revolting.”
“Funny, that’s not the vibe I was picking up from you while you were writhing in my lap.”
“You mean when you groped me without consent? That’s not attraction. It’s assault.”
The air goes so still, so tense, I almost cave and glance over at him. Earlier, when I insulted him, he was totally unfazed. This time, though, I’ve clearly struck some kind of nerve, because when he speaks again all teasing has been stripped from his voice. It’s almost a snarl.
“I only grabbed you because you were hurting yourself, like a child having a tantrum. What happened after that, the way you reacted to me — that was something else. If you want to twist it in your head, if you want to pretend you didn’t feel it, that’s your prerogative. But don’t cry assault when we both know your racing pulse and wet panties are evidence of something else.”
I flush, both chastised by his cold words and embarrassed by my own. I open my mouth to apologize for my unthinking accusation, then promptly snap it back closed.
I don’t owe him an apology.
I don’t owe himanything.
He isn’t my friend. He isn’t my ally.
He’s just a stranger in a bad situation.
It’s probably far safer to keep it that way.
The SUV rolls on beneath us, a steady rumble over unknown road. And though nearly another hour passes, we don’t speak again. Not when we feel the car make a sharp left turn. Not when we slow to a stop. Not even when the suits yank open the back doors and haul us out into the night.
We’re finally here.
….wherever that may be.
Chapter Five
I’m notsure what I was expecting.
Some kind of secret Germanian government facility? A wartime bunker complete with semi-automatic weaponry and helicopters circling overhead?
Instead, I find myself teetering in my chunky black heels on the uneven gravel lining the circular driveway of a stately manor-house in the middle of the countryside. It’s three stories of impressive baroque architecture with a mansard roof and a marble-arched front doorway. There must be twenty windows on each floor, inset at precise intervals along the thick stone facade, all illuminated brightly from within.
It’s not a castle, but it’s damn impressive.