Page 60 of Oh No, My Kidnapper Is Hot!

He pulls me close and spins us together.

“What are you doing?” I squeal.

“Fulfillin’ a dream,” he says, sweeping me around in the small space.

“I don’t dream of this!”

He laughs as he lifts me high, and my hands fly to his shoulders when we begin to twirl.

“Not yours, darlin’. Mine.” He brings me back down and smiles at me, so gentle. Tenderness sparks in his dark eyes, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I melt a little. Any red-blooded woman would melt if he looked at her like that.

His arms snake around me, squeezing me closer until my head hits his chest. I’m surrounded by the feel of him – the smell of him. It’s dizzying, and not just because he’s still spinning us in circles.

“Been havin’ this dream since the first time I saw you dancing, twirlin’ around the park in the middle of the night like danger doesn’t exist.” He shakes his head, chin brushing against my hair. “Spent half that night watchin’ you and the other half scarin’ off freaks who wanted to hurt you. My heart could hardly survive either.” He tightens his embrace. “Worth it, though, to give me this. Never had anything sweeter than this moment.”

My nose scrunches.

“We did kiss,” I remind him. Because really!

He hums a deep, amused sound.

“Never had anything sweeter than this moment,” he repeats. His voice drops, becoming dark and rough. “Never had anything hotter than that one.”

Oh.

I should have kept my mouth shut.

I bury my face deeper into his chest to hide my blush. He laughs silently, shaking against my cheek.

As the final notes of the song play out, he pulls back. He doesn’t look at me as he turns, grabbing my hand to lead me to counter stools where we take our meals.

He’s made spaghetti.

Yum.

The perfect food to help me forget the past five minutes and how nice they were. I’m leaving tonight. I have to. This is not the place to find love – find family. So what if Stryker dreams of dancing in the living room with me? I can find another living room. Another partner to dance with. And if that partner isn’t as big as Stryker, I will absolutely not be disappointed. If his eyes aren’t as blue, or his hair as curly, or his kisses as hot – well, that’s life. You get a taste of something passionate and wild, and then you settle for what’s safe and content. It’s a tale as old as time.

It’s exactly what I want. Safety. Security. Love. And it’s what I’ll have – just as soon as I get out of here.

I widen my eyes at the food, willing them to stay dry.

Stryker’s plate is piled high with pasta and what looks to be half a loaf of garlic bread. If I hadn’t spent months watching him put away comparably humongous amounts of food I wouldn’t believe any one person could eat that much. I barely spare it a second thought now as I bee-line straight for my food.

Stryker cooks for us every night, and every night it’s incredible. I’m salivating before I even have my fork in my hand.

The food here will be sorely missed.

I shake off the reminder that I won’t have easy access to delicious meals – or any meals – soon and dig in. Oh, yeah. The man cancook.

“Did you make this sauce?” I ask between bites. Hehums an affirmative. Sorrows. That means I can’t buy it later.

I slow down, forcing myself to savor every bite.

“I can make you more any time you want,” he offers. “Just ask.”

I make what I hope is a non-committal sound, and he sighs. “You’re still plannin’ on leaving as soon as you can, huh?” He doesn’t sound upset, only resigned. “I’m never going to sleep in my own bed again,” he grumbles.

Oh, wellsorrythat my bids for freedom are so inconvenient for you, crazy kidnapper man. Maybe next time you should kidnap someone a little more Stockholmable.

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