Page 63 of Oh No, My Kidnapper Is Hot!

Where it’s warm? I’m hotter than I’ve ever been. The earth is lava, and I am scorching. Still, I let him lead me away from my car – my near freedom – and down the gravel road. A few steps in I see Baz and, next to him, Archie.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I messed it up.”

He shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” he says, eyes flicking to Stryker. “It all went according to plan.” Then he grins.

My mouth drops.

“No,” I breathe.

“Yes.”

“Traitor!”

He laughs. “Not a traitor. Just a boy in need of a little entertainment.”

“Your ’entertainment’ is mylife,” I snap.

“Not your life,” he replies, a glint in his eye. “Just your marriage.”

Before I can respond, Stryker lifts me into his favored princess carry. “You can forgive Archie later,” he says. I choke out a sound of disgusted aggravation.Forgivehim? Yeah, right!

“We need to get you warm,” Stryker adds.

This is too much. This is alltoo much.

I stay silent, sulking the rest of the way home, listening to the soft, barely-there sounds of the men’s feet on the gravel. How they’re so quiet when two of them are the size of the Empire State Building, I’ll never know.

Archie branches off from us as we reach the houses, muttering a low “you’re welcome” in our direction before slithering his way into his dwelling like the slimy snake he is. Baz continues past us, giving no farewell.

Once we’re in the cabin, Stryker moves quickly through it to the bedroom. He drops me on my feet and starts to take off my clothing.

“What are you doing?!” I shriek.

“I know your pajamas are under here somewhere,” he grunts, evading my flailing limbs. “Stop fighting. I’m not going to do anything inappropriate.”

“Who knows what you think is appropriate ten minutes after youmarriedme!” I squeak, smacking his hand away from my shirt’s bottom. This actuallyisthe lowest layer.

“A fair point,” he says, untying the drawstring on my outer layer of sweatpants. “If I hadn’t promised to wait.”

“I can do it!” I smack his hand away again. “Give me a minute!”

He raises his hands in surrender. “One minute.”

I move speedily, shucking everything above the pajamas I put on before we went to bed the first time. I nearly fall when I try to slide off my sweatpants before removing my boots, but manage to recover in time to meet my one minute deadline.

“Good girl,” Stryker croons, lifting me as I blush. Instead of dropping me onto the bed as I expect, he kicks off his shoes and crawls in himself. He settles, laying in my spot and arranging me over him. My head rests on his shoulder, and his hand gently presses my face into his neck.He uses his other arm to pull the blanket over us, then lays it across my back, holding me to him. Our legs tangle together.

“You warm?” he asks. I nod. Yes, I am most definitely warm. One might even say I’m hot. Between the blanket, his body heat, and the heat pouring off my cheeks, I may never be cold again.

“Good,” he says. “We can finish our talk.”

Uh oh.

“I’m tired,” I say immediately. His body shakes beneath mine.

“You’d rather have this conversation over breakfast?”

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