Page 78 of Snow Bound

“I’m sure I can find it.” She strained forward in the chair, the words coming out in a rush. “I’ll go to my office right now and start looking. If you give me a day, even half a day, I’m sure I can?—”

“Enough!” Grant shouted. Anna jerked back, stunned into silence as he glared at her. “Still playing the innocent, Anna?”

He began to pace, stalking across the small space between her chair and the bank of monitors while he raged. “It’s a good act, I’ll give you that. There’s no possible way it could be her, I thought. Just look at her, the picture of innocence, with those big brown eyes and that shy, cautious smile. You certainly made a fool of me.”

She stared at him for one long, frozen moment, then her face changed. He could only watch in fascination as her eyes went sly and her mouth slowly curved into a half-smile of cool triumph. She sat back, relaxed, all her agitation vanishing in a blink.

“Well, you’re only a man, after all,” she purred, angling her head slightly. He was stunned to hear the faintest of British accents color her voice. “So really, it wasn’t hard.”

He turned to the monitor to stare at Michael, who looked as stunned as he felt. For a brief moment, their eyes met through the camera, then Michael’s eyes began to gleam, and pure delight bloomed in Grant’s belly.

“Looks like it’s going to be the hard way.”

It was all Anna could do to keep the dizzying excitement from showing on her face. When the blindfold had first come down, she’d had a moment of panic, and her struggle in that moment had been absolutely real. The dank basement, bright lights—video monitors, for sweet Christ’s sake, that showed her face, her body, from every angle—the mysteriously sheet-covered table.

But it hadn’t taken long for her to remember where she was, and who she was with. This wonderful, amazing man was making one of her fantasies come true, and she’d be damned if she’d waste it.

She forced her body language to stay relaxed—as relaxed as she could bound hand and foot to a hard chair, with a very large butt plug up her ass—and let out a husky laugh. “What did you expect, Grant? Your security is a joke, you work your employees like dogs for shit pay, and your instincts are clearly lacking.”

She smirked as his eyes narrowed, and kept smirking as he stalked toward her.

“Tell me where it is, or I’m going to hurt you.”

She let out a mocking gasp. “Oh, I’m so scared!” she trilled, then laughed in his face. “There are those terrible instincts of yours again.”

“You’re not going to tell me?” His smile was grim. “Fine. Have it your way.”

He reached into his pocket, his hand fisted around something and drew it free. She watched, fascinated and aroused, as he hit the button and with a quiet snick of steel, the blade popped out.

She managed to sneer. “Careful you don’t nick yourself, darling,” she said, the British accent giving the words an extra bite. “I wouldn’t want you to bleed to death, while I sit here powerless to help.”

“If anyone’s going to get nicked, darling,” he snapped back, “it’s you.”

He lifted the knife towards her, the tip gleaming in the light. It took all of Anna’s willpower to stay still while he drew the flat of the blade over her collarbone, the curve of her breast. She forced the shudder back, staring defiantly in his eyes as he slid the point into the deep v of her neckline.

“Don’t move,” he growled and dragged the knife down.

She held her breath as the fabric parted under the blade with barely a whisper of sound. It was sharp, she realized dimly. Very, very sharp. He slit it down to her navel, and only the blessings of Lycra kept the dress clinging to her breasts.

“Hmmm.” He eyed the rest of the garment critically. “Maybe I’ll come from below for the rest. Wouldn’t want to accidentally disembowel you, would I?”

He crouched in front of her, his smile sharp as the blade, and set the knife to the slit in the dress. She held her breath, sucking her belly in to keep it away from the knife as he slit the skirt almost to the waist. Then he folded the knife, slipped it back into his pocket, and grasped the two sides of the skirt in his fists and yanked. It tore easily, leaving the dress hanging off her arms—and the rest of her bare but for the panties and stockings. She shivered in the cool air and knew if she looked down, she’d see her nipples were hard.

Not that they weren’t hard before.

“Well, well,” he mused, and rocked back on his heels a little. “You seeing this, Rogan?”

“I am,” Michael rumbled, and she jerked her attention to the monitor. She’s forgotten he was there. “She’s a hot little bitch.”

“See those monitors, Anna?” Grant said, gesturing toward the table. “They’re not there for your benefit. They’re so Mr. Rogan can see everything I do. Every little piece of you on display, nowhere to hide.”

The rush of heat that accompanied his words would’ve brought her to her knees, had she been standing. As it was, she had to swallow a whimper.

“We’re going to see everything, Anna,” he went on, his voice a silken caress. “And right now, we see what pretty tits you have.”

He stood to walk around behind her. She tensed slightly when he disappeared from view, and barely stopped herself from swiveling to keep him in sight. She remembered at the last minute that she could see him on the monitor, and relaxed just as his hands came around from behind to cup her breasts.

“Yes, very pretty tits,” he said, his voice in her ear. He hefted them in his hands as though feeling their weight, then shifted to lightly stroke her nipples. “And look at these, already hard. Why are your nipples hard, Anna?”

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