Page 35 of Runaway Hearts: Seduced by Danger

He looks down at his drink and sighs. “I’ve never had a long-term relationship.”

That’s the biggest confession ever made. I do believe it. A man like him sleeps around like a stray dog.Please tell me you always wear protection!My heart aches at the thought of him with other women, but why wouldn’t he if he can?

“My father is...” He pauses, trying to articulate his thoughts. “He sets up dates for me with women who don’t suit me. They treat our date like a job interview or try to use me for my reputation.”

Curiosity gets the best of me, and I ask, “What do you mean?”

He sniffs, and his tone shifts to resentfulness. “He oversees everything, always. He gives me skinny, well-mannered Japanese girls. They’re not my thing.”

What’s your thing? Guys?

I want to tease him, but something in the general mood that smells a lot like honesty stops me. “Four years,” I answer his previous question, shaking my head in disbelief.

Kai takes a sip of his coffee. “Do you often have panic attacks?”

A sad smile curves my lips downward. “Not since Eric dumped me.”

“Oh, he left you?” Kai asks, his eyebrows arching slightly before returning to his calm demeanor. “I didn’t expect that.”

Me neither, baby.But I can’t bring myself to say the words out loud. I just nod. I’m weirdly glad someone forced me to open up.

I was willing to spend my life with Eric, even though I knew it wouldn’t last long. And even if I miss having a man in my bed, I’ll never return to him.

After a year or so, Eric stopped paying any particular attention to my pleasure. Occasionally, I had orgasms by force of habit and maybe sheer determination. I discovered how to position my body to get the most out of it.

With Kai close by, I can’t help but wonder about his sexual skills and if he could satisfy me. A wet heat drips from behind my nipples straight to my pussy.

I could baptize my new car with a hot fuck.

Oh, no.

“Marianne, you’re shaking. Are you all right?” Kai asks in a worried tone that doesn’t match his icy glare.

The heat between my thighs becomes unbearable. I open the windows with trembling hands as Kai becomes my sole focus, and I feel blood rushing to my core as I try to calm down.

Shit.

Our mouths lock in a passionate kiss, our tongues dancing together. I grind my hips against his, feeling his erection pressed against me. His moans intensify, and I match his frenzied rhythm as he grabs my ass.

I park on the side in a dust cloud, grab the steering wheel, and lean my head on it. I endure the fire on my cheeks and between my thighs.

Not now!

His hand massages my back, and my traitor body arches to deepen the touch as I moan. “Ah, damn it.” A familiar tingling assaults me. “Don’t touch me!” I scream at his panicked gaze. My body shakes, and I grit my teeth. My mind wants something my body can’t have. Which results in a sexual avoidance panic attack.

“Marianne, dammit, stop!” Kai shouts, applying pressure with his fingers on my hand.

The searing pain courses through my hand, a merciless reminder of the intercarpal nerve compression. I steal a glance at the one who dares to yell at me. My hands throb from the white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, and the crisis, at least externally, seems to have subsided.

Kai’s hand lingers on my back, the softness of the touch confusing but comforting.

Aren’t you supposed to be an icy, methodical killer?

My insides churn as his warmth contrasts with my inner turmoil.

I want a hug.

“Was that a panic attack?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes scanning my face for any signs of distress.

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