Page 35 of Taken Online

My body betrays me instantly. Heat floods my stomach. My breath stutters.

Jesus.

I should be petrified right now, but instead a warmth blooms inside me.

My brain is telling me to tell him to fuck off, but my body is ready.

Too ready.

Chapter Ten

ASHER

Thegripwassotight I couldn’t breathe. One arm wrapped around my waist, the other across my mouth, pulling me back hard against a body I couldn’t see. My lungs fought for air, but my mind didn’t scream the way it had before.

I should’ve panicked. I should’ve fought. But I didn’t.

Because I knew who it was.

That scent. The heat behind me. The way his fingers clenched around me with practiced control. I knew it wasn’t a stranger. I knew it was him.

“Why are you sneaking into my house, you little stalker?”

Blake.

But… not Blake. Not the careful, clinical therapist I sat across from every week. His voice wasn’t calm or measured now. It was rough. Low. Dangerous.

It made my knees weak.

Oh god, why did he sound like that?

My heart pounded in my ears, not from fear, but from something hotter. I hated it. I hated how badly I wanted to melt into him. I hated how his voice, stripped of professionalism, made my stomach clench and my skin prickle.

I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat.

“I—I’m sorry, Dr. Peterson, I—”

His hand slipped from my mouth, only to slap hard against my ass. The sound echoed. I gasped, the sting blooming through my body, humiliation flaring white-hot beneath my skin.

“You’re not allowed to do that,” I snapped, breathless. “You’re my therapist.”

“You broke into my house,” he said, tone hard as steel. “I’m allowed to do whatever I want.”

That voice wasn’t clinical. That wasn’t restraint. It was want.

I didn’t know whether to run or fall to my knees.

His hands moved quickly now, gripping my waist, sliding over my thighs. Possessive. Hungry.

I couldn’t see his face, and that somehow made it worse. More intoxicating. More dangerous.

“You gonna tell the cops?” he said, dragging his lips close to my ear. “Tell them why you’re in my house at eleven p.m.? What, did you think I’d just let you snoop around?”

His voice was pure mockery, laced with something even darker. “You’ve got a real bad habit of walking into places you don’t belong.”

He let go of me for just a second, and my breath caught again.

“Close your eyes.”

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