Page 28 of Savage Hero

When he closes the door behind her, it sounds like a tomb slamming shut.

“If that maid had left before I’d come past, you’d be dead before lunch,” he says conversationally as he goes over to the coffee-pod machine on the other side of the room.

“You should really screen your staff better if you think they’re going to go around assassinating your guests.”

“Not her. It’s who her tale reaches.”

“Tale?” I inquire dryly.

“The one of the pretty man who turned into a little girl overnight.” He pauses, glances at me over his shoulder. “Put your clothes on.”

I make my voice as haughty as possible and even attempt a Colombian accent. “Why? Am I entertaining today, Papi?”

I shouldn’t be trying my luck, but I woke up with a fright…and trapped. Something I promised myself three years ago would never,everhappen again.

“Do you have a death wish, little girl?” Savage sets down his empty coffee cup so hard, it shatters. He looks at the mess and then back at me as if I’m somehow responsible.

I cross my arms, and his eyes drop to my breasts. “Do I look like a little girl?” I cock my head to the side.

“You look like a spoiled brat,” he says, abandoning his attempt at making coffee and stalking over to me. He’s wearing dark jeans today and a T-shirt the color of a thunderstorm. It stretches over his muscles like saran-wrap, making me all too aware that he’s much beefier than I thought when I met him yesterday. Abs, pecs, triceps, biceps…they’re waging war against that dark fabric. His hair isn’t as neat as it was yesterday, either. Some of the longer strands hang over his forehead and ears and curl against the side of his neck.

I can see more of his tattoos today, since he’s not wearing a jacket and the T-shirt has a round, low neckline. His ink is a striata of geometrical lines and symbols with pockets of traditional colored artworks.

When it’s obvious he’s not going to stop, I stick out a hand and lift a single finger, tut-tutting him.

“Touch me, and I’ll have you begging for your fucking mother.”

All this does is make him smile. Well, technically it’s more of a grimace.

Savage is in front of me a second later, moving too fast for me to back up. He grabs my wrist and yanks, I’m guessing with the hope that I’d stagger forward into him so he could physically dress me like some kind of life-sized mannequin. But I’m not the plastic blow-up doll he keeps under his bed—I’m real, and I have teeth.Teeth that I sink right into that juicy bicep of his when I stagger forward like a college girl after her first real drink.

He lets out a strangled yell and shoves me, but I clamp down like a fucking pit bull.

Savage grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks, but even though that brings tears to my eyes, I don’t let go. I hop up and wrap my legs around his waist.

Blood oozes into my mouth.

I’m no one’s plaything. No one’s motherfucking prisoner. He can keep me here, but the longer he denies me my freedom, the more detrimental it’ll be to his fucking health.

He whirls around and charges forward with a hoarse yell of fury. My back slams into the wall so hard that my jaw unlocks for a gasp of pain. Lights dance in front of my squeezed-shut eyes as I claw air back into my lungs.

Savage backs up to do it again. But this time I let go of his waist and kick my legs up behind me. When he tries to push me into the wall, I instead shove away with my feet.

When he merely staggers back, I’m sure I didn’t kick hard enough, that he’ll somehow regain his balance. But he’s too big, and I fucked with his center of gravity in all the right ways.

Savage goes over like a fucking Redwood. But his grunt when he hits the floor isn’t nearly satisfying enough, so I scramble up his torso, straddle his chest, and grab his hair in a fist.

I can fight with both hands. Which is weird, because I’m right-handed. Guess I’ve always liked to catch people off guard. Nothing does that like landing a left-handed uppercut in the second round, just after the bell’s sounded.

It fucks with people’s heads.

My fist slams into Savage’s jaw, and the impact thrills up my arm.

Nowthat’ssatisfying. I get in another two shots, and the lump of meat and muscle under me is already spitting blood before he grabs my waist and tosses me over his head like a towel he’s done using at the gym.

I manage to roll into a tumble and end up in the pile of food the maid left behind on the floor.

Ew.

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