Page 56 of Hot for Hostage

Her reaction made it far too tempting to stay, so I turned away before I ended up blowing off work for the rest of the day.

I made it three steps before a splash echoed behind me, and I looked over my shoulder. Sadie’s head popped out of the deep end of the pool. Her hands wiped the water from her face.

She smiled sheepishly. “I needed to cool off.”

Her smile almost melted my frustration at Vince interrupting us.

Almost.

Sadie’s towel lay forgotten by the edge of the pool. Her shoulders bobbed above the surface, and water lapped the top of her breasts.

Not taking my eyes off her, I allowed myself a brief moment to fantasize about strangling Vince for barging out here when he had.

It was safer than fantasizing about what I wanted to do to Sadie.

But now I had to go clean up Lorenzo’s mess while Sadie swam naked in my pool, and the prospect of eradicating this “rat problem” with my bare hands was more appealing by the minute.

I turned to leave before she could mistake my annoyance as directed at her.

“Put the shirt back on, Sadie,” I called over my shoulder, earning a laugh from her.

Each step back to the house was a test of my crumbling willpower.

laundry tips

. . .

Sadie

Sadie’s Guide toHostage-TakingBeing Taken HostageForming a Partnership with Your HostageEmbracing the Hostage Lifestyle, Tip #15: In the event you’re a voluntary hostage at your ex-hostage’s mafia fortress, I recommend taking time to explore the layout and befriend the staff. Who knows when it might come in handy?

I was in deeper trouble than I’d thought.

Sharing a couple kisses in an ice cream parlor?

Those could be excused as celebration of a successful rescue mission.

Grinding on my hostage’s lap in the backseat of an SUV?

Still easily written off as temporary insanity.

Getting hot and heavy on the highly visible patio of his backyard where any passerby or foreign satellite could see us?

There was only one possible explanation: I’d been possessed by a horny, mafia prince-obsessed demon who wouldn’t rest until they got what they wanted.

And they wanted Davian.

…Iwanted Davian.

Which had led to me putting on a show in the backyard, and all because my hostage-turned-partner-turned-avenger-slash-jailor made me lose all rational thought.

A quick dip in the pool did little to cool off the spark Davian had ignited. Even an hour later, I still couldn’t get him and his talented fingers off my mind when I slipped into the pink cupcake-patterned bra and underwear he’d picked up for me. With how we’d left things, I was afraid I’d jump him as soon as he got back from dealing with his rat problem.

Not that jumping him would be abadthing. I’d told the truth about not wanting to deny the attraction.

The problem was I needed to stop trying to jump him inpublic.

Besides, I had bigger problems to focus on than hostage-humping. The bag of clothes Shane had thrown together from my apartment was… Well, it was puzzling, to put it nicely. It also explained why most of the men here only wore black—they had no fashion sense whatsoever.

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