Page 9 of Stolen By the Mafia King
A bolt of uncertainty goes through me. I’ll have to be quick. Very quick to catch her before she gets out. And then what? She’ll be taken by her murderous brother. Absolutely not.
She hesitates at the end of the passageway, and as I watch, my heart in my mouth, she bolts right, down the other corridor… Away from the front door.
I’m at fifteen when the thump of her footsteps slows. Sixteen and there’s silence. Seventeen and a choking mew of realisation. There are stairs on that side of the house. But there is the library between her and those stairs, or several closed doors that lead to anterooms and further bedrooms. She doesn’t know that. All she knows is this isn’t familiar, and she went the wrong way.
I smile. Because she has just levelled the playing field for us. I keep counting, and at twenty-seven I’m twitching with the need to run after her. Twenty-eight and I see her flash past the end of the corridor. She looks down at me and I see bright eyes, but alongside the panic there’s a curve of anticipation as she twists to hold me in sight for an extra split-second. This chase has got under her skin already. Running for her life is a game she never thought she’d get to play with anyone she trusted enough to enjoy it.
“Thirty.” I take off at a sprint. My erection really shouldn’t help with this, but the predator’s instinct is engaged and I’m vibrating with need. My soft little prey is there, and I will get her before she can harm herself.
I reach the turn of the passage in time to see her only ten steps ahead in the wide corridor. Grabbing a chair and toppling it into my path, she keeps running.
Smart. She thinks I’m a big muscled clutz. I hurdle the chair in one bound. My landing is heavy but I pick back up my stride instantly.
She squeaks as she checks behind her and sees I cleared her obstacle.
She hitches up her white dress further to free her legs. Far more than is necessary. She’s run so far with her skirt around her knees, but she drags it all the way almost to her nipped-in waist, revealing the full length of the legs I can’t wait to run my hands down. If she’s trying to distract me, it’s no Atalanta’s apple. All her actions do is spur me on.
That peek of her thigh and the curve of her arse focuses me. I can see the line of her white knickers against her soft and creamy-looking skin. She’s delicious and I can’t wait to make her mine. I’m going to enjoy every sweet part of her.
Everything is at stake. Not just my future with this enticing, innocent girl, but her protection. Her very life if I let her escape and put herself back in harm’s way. It won’t take her fiancé long to realise he’s been conned, and his bride never stepped onto the plane.
And if she’s vulnerable and alone at that point…
It’s that thought that makes my legs pound furiously. I close the gap, faster than she is and more determined. My thighs burn with the effort, and my knees twinge with every step. I ignore all the pain and push harder.
She gets to the stairs and I’m only a second behind her as she bounds down. I almost shout for her to be careful. But she’s swift and sure-footed.
She’s going to reach the front door before I do. I’ll catch her before she can unlock the door, but the moral victory will be hers. The minx. Despite her mistake, she’s fast and nimble.
The thought of her arguing has me vaulting the bannister over the last flight of stairs and landing with a crunch that with all the adrenaline I barely feel, but know my knees will complain about later.
As I hit the floor and propel myself forwards she runs straight into me, unable to halt her momentum. The key clatters on the marble floor.
She’s in my arms.
She’smine.
That doesn’t stop her though.
5
JESSA
I shriek like a mouse picked up by the tail.
He jumped from halfway up the stairs like one of those French street runners and it’s too late to stop. I throw up my hands and try to bounce off him, shove him away. My heart tries to beat its way out of my chest via any exit it can find. My throat. My rib cage. My spine. It’s an animal fighting for freedom like I am.
I’m still going to escape. Grant hasn’t quite got a firm hold of me, and I wriggle out from where he tried to pull me tight to his chest. Free.
But in using both fists to push Grant away, the silky fabric of my dress falls and tangles in my legs. I grab for it as I fend Grant off, but it’s no use. My desperately scrabbling legs have snagged the silk on my thighs, the friction tightening, constricting, hobbling. For a moment I’m weightless, between running forwards and tripping. Then I’m falling, throwing out my hands to catch myself until the air is knocked from my lungs by an arm at my waist.
My back slams into a hot, muscled chest.
I failed. I’m done. I’m as trapped here as my heart is within the confines of my ribcage.
Grant is breathing hard, as I am. Pressing into the small of my back is a hot, solid length. That shouldn’t be my first thought as my liberty slips away. But this is the first time I’ve ever felt a man’s cock. Ever. It’s intriguing and exciting even as my breath heaves and panic surges in my blood.
I thrash. I flail like a wild animal, and for a split second I think it’s working. I’m twisting out of his grasp.
