Page 36 of Capture Me (Capture Me)

Ienterthe bathroom and close the door in a controlled motion, making sure it doesn’t slam too hard. Control—that’s what I need right now.

Control and distance fromher.

My cock is like a spike in my jeans, my balls so full I feel like I could blow any second. I’ve never come so close to fucking a woman and then stopped.

I’ve never denied myself something I wanted so badly.

She had been right there, stretched out underneath me, her long, slender body naked and vulnerable. I could’ve fucked her any way I chose, taking my rage out on her delicate flesh while slaking the hunger plaguing me for so long.

Instead, I let her go.

Son of a fucking bitch.

I stare in the mirror, seeing the fury and frustration on my face. She wanted me—I felt how wet she was, how her body was responding to me—and I still let her go.

Despite my body’s burning need, I couldn’t bring myself to rape her.

Disgusted with my weakness, I look away, running my hand over my short hair. Rape is no worse than the crimes I’ve committed in recent years. In Esguerra’s service, I’ve killed and tortured both men and women, and I’ve felt no qualms. Taking Yulia should’ve been the easiest thing in the world—I’ve dreamed of fucking her every night over the last two months—yet I stopped myself.

I stopped myself because the terror in her voice had been real, and I couldn’t ignore it.

Gritting my teeth, I lift my shirt and examine my ribcage. There’s no blood where Yulia’s weapon grazed me, but there is an angry red scratch. She had probably been aiming for my kidney. If I hadn’t been fast enough, I would be bleeding out in hellish pain on that floor—assuming she didn’t slit my throat immediately. As it is, my jaw throbs where her foot struck me, reminding me how treacherous—and dangerous—she is.

It would’ve been smarter to leave her with the Russians.

No.As soon as the thought crosses my mind, my entire body tenses in rejection. Now that I finally have her in my possession, the idea of someone else tormenting her is unbearable. Everything inside me screams that she’s mine—mine to fuck, mine to punish in any way I choose.

Nobody else will lay hands on her ever again.

Unzipping my jeans, I pull out my engorged cock and close my fist around it. Squeezing my eyes shut, I imagine that I’m inside her and it’s her inner walls gripping my dick so tightly.

With the pornographic images filling my mind, it takes less than a minute for me to come, my seed spurting into the clean white bowl of the sink.

20

Yulia

Idon’t knowhow long it takes me to realize that the reprieve is real, but eventually I calm down enough to stop shaking.

He didn’t go through with it.

He didn’t force me.

I still can’t believe it. I know how hard he was—I felt it. There was no reason for him to show me mercy. I’m not some woman he picked up in a bar; I’m the enemy who just tried to injure him. He should’ve gloried in my pathetic begging and used the weakness I revealed to break me completely.

That’s what I would’ve expected him to do, at least.

Lowering my head, I stare at my naked legs, trying to understand why he stopped. Lucas Kent is not a novice to this life—far from it. According to his file, he joined the United States Navy right after high school and entered the SEAL training program several months later. There wasn’t much in that file on his assignments—only that they were usually classified and extremely dangerous missions—but the reason for him leaving was listed.

It was a murder charge eight years into his service. The man holding me captive killed his commanding officer and disappeared into the jungles of South America. There’s a four-year gap in the file after that, but eventually, Lucas Kent resurfaced as Esguerra’s trusted and extremely deadly second-in-command.

A tingle runs down my arms, and some sixth sense makes me look up.

Two pairs of dark eyes are watching me from the window, one huge and fringed by thick lashes, and the other slightly almond-shaped.

It’s two young women, I realize as the owner of the thick lashes ducks out of sight, leaving me staring at the braver intruder. The remaining girl is about my age and looks Colombian, her bronzed, round face framed by smooth dark hair. She’s pretty—and extremely curious about me, judging by her arrested stare.

I don’t have time to register more because a second later, she ducks and disappears too.

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