Page 9 of Abducted

The kidnapper!

She let out a scream that reverberated off the walls. He jumped up as if he’d been shot, and his head came inches away from bashing into hers. She shrieked again as his eyes found hers, and she kicked him as hard as she could between the legs. He yelped and keeled forward, his hand clasping his injured member. She dove for the edge of the bed. His hand snatched her leg. He had her trapped.

“Let go!” Her fists came down to batter him anywhere she could reach: head, shoulders, back.

“Dammit, stop!” he bellowed, and rose from his bent position to grab her arms. Panic strangled her throat. She swallowed another scream. Had he raped her? She couldn’t remember! Had she willingly slept with him?

No. No way…

“Let me go, let me go!” She threw her body backward to try to break his hold. He held tighter. She ended up on her back with him on his knees above her, her wrists tethered together by his fingers.

His eyes were stormy, his face clenched. His fierce scowl darkened the sheath of stubble on his jaw. He had her pinned. Images of the things he could do to her with sickening ease whizzed through her mind. No. She wouldn’t let him. She kicked him in the stomach like a madwoman. Her efforts were futile.

“I would quit kicking like that if I were you. You aren’t wearing any underwear.” The corner of his mouth turned up at her smugly, revealing even white teeth. Amusement laced his voice. The shirt she wore was bunched around her hips. Her feet rested against the hard wall of his stomach, giving him a clear view. His eyes never left her face. She froze. His hands still held her wrists together between them.

She inhaled sharply.

“You,” she said. The events of last night hit her with the force of a tornado. His grin waned and his hold loosened. She scrambled to her knees to face him, tugging the shirt as far down as it would go.

The bastard had taken her from her bed last night. The sick sonofabitch…

“What about me?” He slid off the bed and picked a shirt out from the duffel bag on the floor, his back to her, a back that was thick and layered with muscles that flexed when he pulled the shirt over his head and down his body.

She swallowed over a lump in her throat. Light gray sweatpants hung loosely at his hips. Good God, he was hot.

He turned to face her as he rounded the bed, a mischievous grin still slanting his mouth. That telltale smirk churned her stomach into knots.

“Y–You kidnapped me.” Oh God. What did he want with her? “For what? Your sick pleasure?” Her breath expelled from her lungs on a hiss. “You disgusting sonofa—” She leapt off the bed.

Fire coursed through her. He’d picked the wrong target.

“Hold up, you’re jumping to a shitload of conclusions.” He held his hands out as if he was calming a damn horse. Her fingers curled into a tight fist. She raised her hands as she closed the distance between them. He caught her arm before she swung. “Would you calm down? Jesus.”

“What did you do to me in that bed?”

His face contorted. “What?”

“Did you…did you touch me?”

Something flashed in his eyes. His jaw worked. “No, dammit.”

“Oh, I should just take your word for it?” Her body shook with anger, and her brain worked like a hamster wheel, trying to remember. The soft flutter of his shirt falling over her skin and the warm scent of him flashed through her mind.

“Don’t you think if you’d had sex you’d be able to tell? You’d feel a bit sore or—”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.” Her words came out rapidly.

“Look, I know you’re pissed, but you were awake when I put you in bed. Your teeth were chattering from sleeping in the wet clothes. I helped you get changed into my shirt, but that was all.” His temper had settled. His tone was calm, almost placating.

Her teeth bit into her tongue.

She remembered sitting on the edge of the bed, him in front of her, taking the shirt off his back. He hadn’t touched her then. But he had gathered her in his arms and put her in the warm bed. She didn’t remember anything after that, other than waking up.

“Would you stop looking at me like I’m a rapist? I didn’t touch you, and you know it.”

“Sorry if I don’t believe a kidnapper right off the bat. I’m a little judgmental that way.”

His lips spread into a smile. “You’re one feisty cookie, you know that?”

---