Page 5 of Captivated

I spit blood and run after her. I catch up with her in seconds. She screams bloody murder when I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder. She tries to knee me, but I bear-hug her legs to my chest with a snarl. I turn and march over to the van to grab my shit. Then we’re off to the staircase that winds up into the factory building.

I climb the first five flights, then head down a dark crumbling hall. Tessa’s still screaming her pretty head off, but I ignore it. There’s no one around out here. And if anyone does hear her, they’ll never know where it’s coming from anyways.

In the maintenance closest, I find the secret staircase and head up those until I get to the locked door to my hideout. I try to ignore the pain in my side as I fish my keys out of my pocket. My head turns slightly, and I groan instantly.

Tessa’s sundress has bunched up with her slung over my shoulder. And now, I can see her purple, lacy panties pulled over her creamy, drum-tight ass. I want to reach out and give it a healthy smack. Or fuck, bite it. But that knee of her slams into my chest. I hiss and unlock my door before I march in.

I storm across the big loft space of the old building. Tessa sees where we’re headed, and she starts to scream again when she sees the bed.

“Please! Please, no!”

“Relax,” I growl. I have my own bed out in the main loft area. But there’s a partition-walled little room to one corner of the loft that’s got a bed and a tiny bathroom. I march in and throw her down across the bed. I reach into my back pocket and yank out the handcuffs. She gasps loudly when one clasps around her wrist. The other clangs shut around the bed post above her head.

I stand back and watch her squirming and thrashing. Again, I hate to keep her bound—unless it’s under some different circumstances. But I’m also amused by the fire in her as she fights this.

“Don’t you touch me!” she screams.

I frown. “Calm the fuck down. That’s not my style.”

“Then what is this!?”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Your fucking father set me up and tried to take me out. So I took you.”

“And now?” She looks defiant, but also scared. Defiant I like. I don’t want her scared though.

“Now,” I growl. “You’re mine.”

4

Tessa

This is wrong.This is so very, very wrong. I’ve been kidnapped, thrown into a van, driven to God knows where, and then handcuffed to a bed. And the only thought going through my head is how crazy freaking hot the man who’s done it to me is.

His dark eyes burn hotly into me. It’s like his very gaze is a lover’s touch when it slides over me. Those eyes set my core ablaze, and the fuel is knowing how disturbingly wrong that feeling is. His sharp jaw covered in with a five o’clock-shadow grinds as he stands there at the foot of bed. He looms over me, too—definitely over six feet and pure brawn and muscle. He’s in ripped jeans and blood-soaked and torn t-shirt. The doctor in me is concerned about the bloody wound I can see through the rips in his shirt. The hormones in me are staring at the grooved abs I can see through those same rips.

“And now?” I gasp. I glare at him, doing my best to look unafraid. But I am. I’m afraid of who he is, and what he plans to do to me. But I’m also afraid that I might justwant himto do those things to me…

“Now…” His growly voice is deep and powerful sounding. It’s smokey and smooth with a little grit to it that makes my core tighten. “Now you’re mine.”

That shouldn’t sound so hot. It should sound menacing, and terrifying. It definitely shouldn’t make my pulse skip and my core tighten.

“What if I have to pee?”

I want to die the moment I say it. Yes, ask the hot criminal about peeing. That’s attractive. But then, what the hell should I care about what I say to this asshole? I mean hot or not, he freaking kidnapped me off the street!

He nods that Armani model chin at a door. “There’s a bathroom through…” he scowls. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Didn’t think this through did you, kidnapper?” I sass with a smirk.

His gorgeous, brooding eyes swivel back to me. “Tone it down, sweetheart,” he grunts. “Fine.” He marches over to me with heavy strides. I actually gasp a little bit at his intensity as he leans over me. His fingers defy unlock the handcuffs, and he steps back. Those eyes sweep over me again, making me tremble.

“The windows are bolted,” he drawls. “If you break them to try calling for help, no one will hear you. And it’s seventy feet to the parking lot below. If you’re thinking along those lines, I wouldn’t. Any questions?”

I know taunting him or pushing his buttons is probably a terrible idea. But I’ve never been that great at keeping my mouth from spilling what it wants to say.

“Yes. Is there a continental breakfast served in the morning? And is the room service any better than the shitty concierge service?”

He smiles thinly. I tremble at the heat in that fierce gaze. “Anyone tell you that you’ve got a mouth on you?”.

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