Page 20 of Wrong Number

“Why… What are you doing?”

“If you have to ask, I’m obviously doing it wrong.” She blushed at that.

“Why can’t I see you? Why did you just?—”

“Shh,” I pressed my fingers to her lips. “I’ll explain later, I promise.” I adjusted my dick.

Vivi was in my car, and I was going to take her home.

And keep her there forever.

eight

vivi

My mind was racing a million miles an hour, but when I heard his voice and felt his hand on my thigh when he started the car, everything inside me went quiet.

I’d heard once that if you were ever kidnapped, you should try to catalog anything and everything you could about the drive. Turns, sounds, train tracks.

But I didn’t.

My mind was quiet. Blank almost.

Only Nix was in my head.

Nix.

Nix had come by and literally swept me off my feet.

By kidnapping you! the sane part of me tried to argue, but the complaints were halfhearted at best. And why did I keep picturing him as the detective that had been in the last break room? All tall, dark, and handsome with beautiful fathomless eyes the color of deep moss?

“Nix,” I said out loud the moment the car stopped. And even though he didn’t say anything, I could feel him watching me as the loud sound of what I assumed was a garage opening rang through the car. “Nix, please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I don’t even know what you look like.”

“Yes, you do,” he whispered, and the car moved again. Before I could his words, the driver’s side door opened and shut. Then mine opened. I wasn’t able to make a sound with the way my heart was suddenly racing in my chest.

I’d been kidnapped. I’d been kidnapped by the man I had been talking to. I’d all but told him everywhere I went. I’d trusted him. I’d fallen for him, and he’d taken me in the middle of the night in an alley.

And he’d said I knew what he looked like!

I felt him lean over toward me, and when I breathed him in, that soft familiar scent I’d been smelling filled my lungs.

Woodsy. Citrusy. Musky. Completely masculine.

“It’s been you,” I whispered with my eyes shut even though the blindfold was still in place. His movements stilled, and his hands at my hips froze. How could I have been so stupid? Why hadn’t I trusted my gut? He’s been following me. A shiver ran down my spine. He’s been in my apartment.

“What did you say?”

“It’s been you,” I repeated a little louder. My voice still shook, but it grew stronger with every syllable. “It’s been you. You’ve been inside my apartment,” I accused.

“I have,” he whispered what felt like right in front of me. If I moved a smidge forward, I had a feeling I’d feel his lips against mine. And despite the craziness of the situation, I really wanted to do just that.

Was I sick in the head?

Was this Stockholm syndrome.

No! It was just me. Me and my dirty fantasies swirling in and out of my head.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised, and before I could open my mouth to scream, he pulled me out of the car and over his shoulder. Carrying me where, I had no idea.

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