Page 36 of The Hero I Can't Resist
He grunts, jerking his hips. “You’re beautiful.”
I laugh and tug at the knot on the top of my head. “I have no makeup on, my hair is a disaster, and?—”
He sits up, the bed dipping where he moves. “You’re beautiful. Do I need to show you just how beautiful I think you are?”
I hold my hand up and move across the room to the door. “As tempting as that is, I’m going to go makebreakfast, and then I want to try out a new recipe for my live tonight.”
That gets his attention, and he pats his stomach. “What is it?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Do you really care? You eat everything I bake.”
He laughs. “No. Whatever it is, I’m going to love it.”
My heart does that ridiculous flip again. I’m still trying to process all of this. Being loved by Zach is a new feeling, but it’s the best one. I’ve never had anyone as interested in my baking as he is. But it’s not just baking; it’s everything. He truly listens to me. He notices. He tastes my failed recipes and compliments me at every turn. I point to the door. “Are you coming down soon?”
He nods his head just as his phone buzzes on the nightstand. He looks at the caller ID, and I see the fast flash of guilt on his face. “It’s your brother, Miller. I’ll be right down.” He stands up, and I watch as he pulls on his jeans before answering the phone.
I take my time walking down the stairs, but I’m smiling the whole way. I turn on the kitchen lightsand look around my spotless kitchen. It’s probably my favorite room in the house, which is good since I spend most of my time here. I unlock the back door for Terry and then go to get my pans out, setting them on the stove. I then go to the fridge and grab the carton of eggs, bacon, and apple butter. I’m juggling everything in my arms when I sense there’s someone behind me.
I freeze. Instinct takes my breath as arms go around me. I know it’s not Zach. The grip is not warm or safe. I don’t recognize the smell of sweat, cigarettes, and body odor. I freeze for just a second, unsure what to do but knowing I need to do something.
I drop all the contents in my arms, but before I can get a scream out, a hand covers my mouth. Panic hits me, hot and fast.
The man jerks me back, holding me to him with one arm around my waist and the other hand over my mouth, covering my screams.
His grip tightens around me, and he’s breathing into my ear. “I knew you’d smell like sugar cookies.”
He leans down and licks my cheek.
Something inside me snaps. I swing, I bite, I kick, I elbow him hard in the ribs, but he doesn’t loosen hishold. I fight him for everything I’m worth. I try tossing elbows, biting his hand, stomping and kicking at him, but no matter how hard I fight, I can’t get free.
“Stop it,” he grunts. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
And that’s when I see it. A knife. My knife. He’s using my knife from the holder on the kitchen counter against me. I feel the tip at my neck and freeze. I don’t even take a breath. It’s like everything around me magnifies: the hum of the refrigerator, Terry’s knock on the back door, the unsteady beat of my heart. “Please,” I muffle under his hand.
“Are you going to be quiet?”
I nod my head, and he uncovers my mouth.
I know I’m going to scream, but I can’t do it with his knife at my throat. All I hear is a voice, and it’s a weird feeling, being scared but also wanting to face my attacker head-on.
The fact that Zach is upstairs and knowing he’ll be down soon comforts me a little. I just need to keep this guy talking.
“What do you want?” I ask him.
“You.” He chuckles, lifting his hips to press into my backside.
I almost vomit. I have to swallow it back and keep it together. “Who are you?”
He buries his face in my hair and inhales. “I’m your Baker King.”
Oh God. Zach said that bakersking was escalating, but I didn’t really know what that meant. I thought this was someone that was all talk, and I never dreamed he would break into my house. “Please, I’m begging you?—”
He cuts me off as he leans me over the counter. The hard surface digs into my hip as the man pulls the knife from my neck, but as soon as I start to struggle again, he puts it back. “Stop it. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
“I don’t think so,” Zach says from the doorway.
He’s still shirtless, jeans hanging low on his hips, but what surprises me most is the gun in his hand pointed right by my head at bakersking.
