Page 19 of A Captive Situation

Which made me scowl. My heart didn’t need to be doing any pitter-pattering.

He remarked, “What specifically happened to make the officer bring you to the station?”

Cue more squirming from me. Because, embarrassment. “Right. Erm ... I went to where my cousin worked, and I thought about trying to see him, but there was a receptionist there. I got in my head, got all self-conscious. Shy. She thought I was a stalker. Called the cops.”

He immediately scowled.

My heart pitter-pattered again. I liked that look on him. Liked it when it was there for me.

“What the fuck? Why didn’t she just ask you to leave?”

I glanced down to my lap. “She might’ve.”

“Sawyer.”

I lifted my gaze back up. He was just watching me so intently now. I wanted to fidget, just because I couldn’t handle all that attention solely focused on me. At least, in this situation I couldn’t. An image of me in bed, of him looming over me, watching me with that same concentration, maybe something of his inside of me—and I was squirmingagain.

“Is it hot in here?” I exclaimed, reaching for my coffee and gulping down a good mouthful. I swallowed it.

His eyes fell to it, his eyebrows furrowing a little. He had that dry grin tugging at his mouth again.

It took a second before I saw the steam coming from my coffee, and I was back to almost hyperventilating. I started to shove out of the booth. “I need to walk.”

He reached over, caught my wrist. He held me in place. “Stay.”

I groaned, but my ass didn’t move. “She asked me to leave. I did. I went to the other side of the street. That’s when she called the cop on me, and I was kinda losing my mind when he showed up. I felt stupid. And she was there, judging me.”

“Did she say something?”

I shrugged tightly. “You know when someone’s judging you. Like she’s never dealt with something truly horrible in her life? I bet she hasn’t.”

His phone buzzed. He ignored it, shooting me a look. “Now you’re judging her.”

Maybe. I didn’t care. “He didn’t say he was going to arrest me, but he took me to the station and I never saw him again. Your cousin was brought in an hour later. The rest is history.”

His phone began buzzing again.

He ignored it. Again.

I asked, “Are you going to get that?”

“No.” His response was immediate and he didn’t spare me a look, taking another drag of his coffee. When it quieted and started off again, he sighed, putting his mug down. He hit accept and brought it up tohis mouth, and growled into it, “Stop fucking calling me. I’ll come when I’m ready.”

A voice started to speak from the other end, but he ended the call and silenced it, stuffing it back in his pocket. As he did, he stretched back, and his shirt lifted, showing a corner of his stomach underneath. It was enough. My theory was confirmed. The man was ripped underneath that shirt.

I was also being reminded that it’d been three weeks since anyone had touched me.

Damn. What was it about this guy that was making me react like this? It was frustrating.

Catching my stare, he pushed his shirt back down, moving it over the gun that was holstered on his side. “You got a thing for cops?”

I hadn’t even noticed the gun. Funny. That should’ve been the first thing I noticed.

“Don’t get a big head. You’renota cop anymore, right? Can you even still wear that thing?”

He grinned, relaxing back in his seat. He picked up his coffee, gesturing to me. “It’s all legal, if that’s what you’re worried about. Wore a gun for too long to not wear one so soon into retirement. Feel naked.”

Swoon.I was swooning.

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