Page 9 of Mex

With a chuckle, he keeps my hands in his and pulls us both up from the snow. I’m freezing, and I know right now that it was a very bad idea to let myself get so cold. There is nothing in that container to warm me up and no amount of begging will get him to give me anything.

“I’m going to freeze,” I protest as he begins dragging me back toward the container.

“Should have thought about that before you tried to run.” He grunts, pulling the gun from his jeans and keeping it in his hand, no doubt in case I try to run again.

“If I freeze to death, you’ll never get your information, and this will all be for nothing.”

“You won’t let yourself freeze to death,” he casually tells me as we reach the container and he steps inside. “You’ll tell me before then.”

Fucker.

Smart, cunning, asshole.

I growl a curse as he releases me, standing at the door so I can’t run again.

“If I were you, I’d get those clothes off and get under a blanket before the cold sets in.”

I’m shivering, and the look on his face only makes me want to take that gun and shoot him myself.

“I’ll never get warm,” I say, my teeth chattering. “The least you can do is strip down and get in with me.”

A half smile has my insides going to liquid. He is so fucking gorgeous I want to punch him in the face just to make myself feel better.

“Nice try.”

“It was worth a damn shot,” I mutter.

Then, in front of him, I begin undressing. I might not be able to get what I want, but I can sure as hell make a show out of every situation. Slowly, I remove all my clothing, until I’m standing before him completely naked. His eyes flash and slowly drag down my body. With a flick of my hair, I turn and bend over right in front of him as I lean down and very slowly crawl into my mattress fort.

A low growl from him has a grin spreading across my lips.

Men, they can never resist a bit of ass.

“You can join me, if you want,” I murmur, not looking back at him. “Otherwise, you can leave.”

He doesn’t immediately throw back a remark and turn to leave. In fact, he stands there in silence for what feels like a long, long time. No doubt he is weighing up if he can get away with coming in here, sliding his cock into me and managing not to let me escape all at the same time.

Obviously deciding it’s not worth the risk, I hear him turn and walk toward the door.

Dammit.

“There is something else,” I call out.

He doesn’t answer, but he does pause. I can see his boots stop by the exit.

“I have diabetes. I will die in here if you don’t let me out soon.”

He grunts, then mutters, “Nice try, sweetheart.”

With that, he leaves.

He would be right in his assumption that I don’t have diabetes – because I don’t. What he doesn’t know, however, is that I’m a hell of an actor.

He’s about to see just how good I am.

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