Page 33 of Tempted by Celestial Bodies

She blinks until her eyes adjust, hauling herself up on her elbows as far as the bonds will allow. Whatever had tugged at her scalp releases its hold abruptly, though the sticky sensation still makes her scalp crawl.

A thicker tube hangs from a hook at the side of the table near her head. It looks like the same material as the restraints, with what looks like an oddly shaped oxygen mask at the end. Its small attachments remind her of earbuds in their size and shape. It doesn’t look like any medical device she’s familiar with, but between her sore throat and the location of the tube, she can make an educated guess about its purpose.

Hell. They intubated me.She checks herself over as best as she can, but despite the unseen person’s warning, she doesn’t have any visible injuries. Rather than a hospital gown, she has on the same clothes she wore in her last waking memory, soft sleeping shorts and an old T-shirt several sizes too large. Her feet are bare.

It still doesn’t make sense, yet in the absence of any immediate danger, her heart rate slows. The air smells subtly different now: sweeter, softer, almost…comforting.

“That’s better,” the voice says unexpectedly, from somewhere behind her head. She doesn’t even jump. Her heart keeps up its steady rhythm as she breathes in the strange, sweet air. It reminds her of cookies baking, of cinnamon and vanilla, laundry fresh from the dryer, the warmth of home.

Soft footsteps draw closer, still out of view, but she’s not afraid. She’s not angry anymore. She’s not numb. She simplyis,while whoever or whatever captured her draws closer on stealthy feet.

“Don’t come any closer.” She hears herself speak with impossible calm. “I know what you’re doing. Drugging me won’t get you what you want.”

His voice is soft and low, now, unthreatening. “I only want to keep you safe. Your biometrics spiked far past their recommended range.”

He must be monitoring her vitals somehow. Maybe the restraints have more function than simply holding her still. “Yeah, waking up in a strange place bound hand and foot tends to do that to a girl. Youcouldjust release me.”

“If I did so while your body was primed to flee, you might fall from the table in your haste to escape, or trip over something when you run into the dark. There are many ways you could come to harm before I could intervene. You’d likely fight me if I tried.”

“If you think I won’t fight back when I’m stone-cold calm, you have another think coming.”

“It seems likely,” he admits with surprising readiness. “If you must fight me, however, I would prefer you do so with a clear head. But I can give you back your fear, if you wish.”

“I can’t help but notice you still haven’t released me. Or shown your face.”

A pause lengthens. Has he just…left her there?Alone in the dark or alone with my captor…which is worse?With the “clear head” he’s granted her, she decidesbothare objectively terrible options.

Then he says, in an oddly tentative tone, “Would you like to see me, Kaitlyn?”

“I’d like you to stop lurking behind me, yes.”

He knows my name.Under the artificial calm, her panic beats against the bars of its chemical cage, desperate to kick off another round of adrenaline.

The worst part is that he’sright: all other factors remaining equal, she would rather face whatever this is, whoever he turns out to be, with dispassionate logic instead of raw instinct. If he bottled whatever he’s pumping into the air, he could make a killing marketing it to the military industrial complex. Her petty pack of infighting colleagues could use some cooler heads too.

A shadow falls over her, a quiet footfall her only warning as he circles into her field of view.

Even though her pulse holds rock-steady, she draws in a long breath. Words unexpectedly elude her, because the man standing before her isbeautiful.Objectively. Aesthetically. Undeniably a physical specimen of a quality only reached by professional athletes or leading men with a team of nutritionists and trainers at their beck and call. Or the subjects of romance novel covers, but that was just a fantasy. This man is flesh and blood, standing close enough to touch if her hands were free.

He’s bare-chested, slender, abs taut and defined, his pants well-fitted enough to leave little to the imagination. Calm or not, heat rises in her cheeks and belly.

When she belatedly catches herself staring at the outline of the bulge between his legs, she tears her gaze up to his face with its strong jaw, high cheekbones, and full lips. Shadowed by a dark wave of hair falling over his forehead, his intense, hooded eyes meet hers. They’re a striking color, a deep hazel that almost looks red-gold in this light.

“Well?” he says in that rich, low voice of his. “You’ve seen me, now.”

“Uh. Wow. Hi.”Smart. I went to MIT, but I can’t talk to a hot guy like a normal person. Classic Kat.

“Hello.” A trace of a smile flits over his gorgeous features. “If I loosen your restraints, will you run from me now?”

“I’m not making any promises. Would you chase me if I did?” The words slip out before she can stop them, and her stomach flips again. For a moment she pictures this gorgeous man pursuing her, catching her, tackling her to the ground?—

What is wrong with me? He kidnapped me!Whatever chemical cocktail she’s breathing in doesn’t seem to have dialed down her libido.

He cocks his head, a long, assessing look. “Do you want me to?”

“No.” Her denial rings out too loud, too fast. “That’s not what I said. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“I was only asking,” he says mildly. “I would prefer it if you don’t run. Personally.”

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