Page 6 of Sinister Games

CHAPTER3

LIZZIE

Oh. My. God.

The man was not just handsome, he was Henry Cavill meets George Clooney wrapped up in a sexy British accent bow… gorgeous. And I was currently hanging from his arm like a limp, muddy rag doll. Humiliated fire burned my cheeks.

“I… I… I…”

Get it together! This man already thinks you’re an idiot for stepping directly in the path of a cab and now you are just staring at him blabbering like, well, like an even bigger idiot.What the hell? My mind was so rattled by those incredibly blue piercing eyes and my near-death experience that I couldn’t even think straight.

I could feel his fingers stretch out then press into my waist. His hands felt warm and comforting. He then turned my body around but kept me pressed to his front. In that very moment, I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world except in this stranger’s arms. It wasn’t just because he was incredibly hot. He made me feel safe and protected. Even the raindrops seemed to fall around us, not daring to fall on his shoulders.

Time stopped.

His hands lifted from my waist, leaving me feeling lost until they settled on my jaw. My head tilted back as he cradled it in the palms of his hands. Looking once more into his intense gaze, my heart stopped with irrational fear. This man had just saved my life. Yet I had the strangest feeling he had the power to take my life as well. As if his strong hands could snap my skull and jaw like brittle, hollow bird bones. Shaking off the macabre thought, I tried to focus on his full mouth and the words he was speaking.

“Are you hurt?”

Staring back at him, the words didn’t register.

His thumbs caressed the sensitive skin beneath my cheekbones. His voice sounded like dark honey as he leaned in closer to repeat, “Little one, please answer me. Are you hurt?”

Unable to speak, I could only shake my head slightly, the grip of his hands too fierce to allow more.

With that, he pulled me close to his chest. His left hand buried itself into the wild nest of damp curls my hair had become while his right pressed firmly against my lower back. I could hear the elevated thump of his heartbeat. I snuggled closer. Daring to slip my hands beneath his coat, to press my palms into the hard muscles of his sides. Closing my eyes, I inhaled the spicy sandalwood scent of him.

This was madness, of course!

I didn’t even know this man and here I was standing in the rain practically humping his leg. Taking in one more deep inhale of cologne, I forced myself to take a step back.

Except he wouldn’t let go.

His arms wrapped tighter around me.

Craning my head back—he really was impossibly tall, my head didn’t even reach his shoulder—I cleared my throat before speaking. “Thank you. I think I’m okay now.”

Lowering my head, I hid my cringe at the childish, high-pitched sound of my voice. The man probably dated worldly, sophisticated women and here I was sounding as if I should be asking him to find my mommy.

I tried once more to take a step back.

Again, his arms tightened; my heart skipped a beat. There was something terrifying yet exciting about the idea that he was powerful enough to keep me there in his arms for as long as he liked. Before I had a chance to think on the consequences, he released me, but only to place his hands on my upper arms.

With the small separation of our bodies, I could finally look at him without having to tilt my head back, which at least made me feel a bit less like a little girl about to get a scolding from him. He had very angular features, from his strong jaw to his high cheekbones and prominent brow. He looked like a Roman gladiator with his angular nose that had just the hint of a kink in it halfway up, as if it had been broken sometime in the past. Although I couldn’t imagine anyone brave enough to take a swing at someone like him. His skin had a healthy glow to it, not so much a tan and definitely not a fake tan but more the look of a man who spent time outdoors. Probably wrestling lions or climbing mountains with just some rope and his bare hands.

“You bitch! You fucking stupid bitch!”

My mouth dropped open as I swiveled to face the justifiably really pissed off cab driver.

Under normal circumstances, I was a pretty independent female who would be perfectly capable of squaring off with a surly man, even if he was screaming obscenities at me within view of Buckingham Palace and several bystanders who had stopped to watch the commotion. However, I was never given the chance.

The stranger grabbed me around the waist and placed me firmly at his side and a little behind him.

“Adjust your tone, now,” he commanded the cab driver.

“I almost crashed because of that bitch! She stepped right out in front of me!” A foamy spittle was forming at the corner of the cab driver’s mouth as he flapped his arms in the air with each declaration.

I was of course wrong for what I did, but I didn’t think I deserved to be called a bitch in such violent terms. It was an innocent mistake after all and if anything, I was the one who almost died. His stupid cab was fine.

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