Page 29 of The Plunge

I don't like that. I don't like any of this.

"So you say you can't trust me, but I'm supposed to trust you? What if you decide to run off tonight, leaving me all by myself up here, handcuffed to a bed in the middle of nowhere? Excuse me, but I've read enough Stephen King to know that's not a good idea!"

The look on his face is an amusing blend of confusion and anger. He may not know the book I'm referring to, but he knows I have a valid point, coming from my perspective. Even a professional killer like him must be capable of enough empathy to see where I'm coming from.

"What do you suggest then?" he asks.

I bite my lower lip as my eyes dart back and forth between him and the bed. It's a king size with two pillows on each side and one big blanket.

Enough room for two.

"Sleep up here with me," I say, avoiding his curious gaze while my cheeks once again glow with treacherous heat. "That way, you can keep an eye on me without having to cuff me to the bed. I'm sure I wouldn't be able to sneak out the room without you noticing. And I don't have to feel quite as extradited and at your mercy."

"You are at my mercy," he points out. "And I'm not sure that's such a great idea."

"Why not?"

I turn to look up at him, feeling hurt as if he'd just rejected me. It's silly, but I can't help it.

"Because I can't guarantee your safety then, either," he replies, throwing me an ominous side glance.

I'm sure the blush on my face must have darkened a few shades. Is he really saying what I think he's saying? That he couldn't keep his hands off me?

Why does that make my heart flutter with such excitement? How can I even think of such things?

How can he?

"I'm badly wounded," I add for consideration. "Is that a turn on for you?"

His eyes flicker with a sinister promise, a fiery need sparking across his expression as he leans down to me. His lips are so close to my ears that I can feel the warmth of his breath when he whispers the words that make my core flutter with desire.

"No, but you are."

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