Page 29 of Can You Take It?

“No,” I snap, shaking my head. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened last night.”

She raises her pinky. “Pinky swear.”

I can’t help but feel like this is pointless. She’s clearly not taking any of this seriously. But I can’t just let it go, either. I hold up the cuffs, bringing them closer to her.

Izel's eyes widen slightly. “I know I messed up, okay? But I'm done running. I...I won't do it again,” she tries to rationalize.

I take a step closer, wanting to keep the conversation between us. “I know you’re scared, and I understand why. But I need you to cooperate.”

Her eyes shift from fear to a hard, mean look as she realizes there’s no way out. “So, what? You’re going to cuff me now?”

“If that’s what it takes to make sure you stay, then yes.”

“You can’t force me into cuffs if I don’t want to wear them.”

“I’ve got a badge that says Icanmake you do whatever I want. Care to test how far that power goes?”

Without waiting for her response, I grab her wrist, spin her around, and shove her down onto the bed. Not too roughly, but with enough force to make my point. She falls onto her stomach, and I grab both her hands, pulling them behind her back. I know I’m crossing a line, but I can’t let her run free.

Over her shoulder, Izel glances back at me. “Careful, Agent,” she purrs, a smirk curving her lips. “Cuff me like that, and I might just get too turned on to behave.”

My grip on the cuffs falters for a split second, just enough for her to catch it.

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter.

Shaking my head, I snap the second cuff into place, tightening them against her wrists. It’s necessary to keep things under control, and I hope she understands it’s for her own safety.

I straighten up, but before I can take a breath, the vixen flips onto her back. I am pretty sure those cuffs are digging into her wrists, but she spreads her legs just enough to make her intention clear. That damn smirk is still on her lips is daring me, testing my resolve.

Heat rushes through me, and for a split second, all I want to do is wipe that look off her face the way I know best. But I can’t.

I let out a sharp breath, then turn on my heel and walk away, forcing myself to leave before I do something we both won’t be able to come back from.

Chapter 11

IZEL

The cuffs bite into my wrists, making me second-guess my rash decision to try and escape. It had given me a brief respite from the suffocating presence of Lucas Brown, but now there’s Noah. He’s not like Lucas, not interested in small talk or even acknowledging my existence. He’s all business, and I can’t decide if that’s better or worse.

I almost miss the irritation of Lucas. At least he was doing something, even if it was just getting on my nerves. But with Noah, it’s like I’m invisible.

And then, my thoughts drift back to that damn kiss with Richard. It’s infuriating how it lingers in my mind. He had kissed me like no one ever had before, like I was more than just an object, like I was a person worth wanting. But all that was overshadowed by the fact that he put me in cuffs, and that’s something I can’t forgive.

I’ve felt this way before, the feeling of being trapped. But this time, it’s worse. I didn’t hate Richard until he cuffed me, and now, I hate him more than ever.

Just as I’m sinking deeper into my angry thoughts, Noah appears. He says something about lunch, and I’m not sure I even want to eat, but I don’t have much of a choice. He unlocks the cuffs, and while rubbing my sore wrists, I give him a pointedly annoyed look.

“You could have at least loosened them a bit.”

He doesn’t respond, just heads to the kitchen to grab us something to eat. I follow him reluctantly, my stomach growling despite my anger.

Noah puts together a couple of sandwiches, simple but decent enough. He sets one down in front of me and takes his lunch to the small table in the corner, where he’s already got a laptop set up. I sit across from him, chewing slowly.

He is focused on the screen, typing away with one hand while he takes bites with the other. It’s like he’s distracting himself.

“So, Noah,” I start, taking a bite of my sandwich, but the tomatoes threaten to tumble out. I catch them in my mouth just in time, avoiding an embarrassing mess. “Did you know that the percentage of men being serial killers is significantly higher than women?”

He looks up from his laptop, raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Encouraging.

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