Page 38 of The Taken Series (1-3)
He drops his hands from me and steps away, and my body instantly misses his touch.
“I’ll be right here when you get out.” His eyes sear into me, and I turn slowly and walk away, focused on my goal.
A few ladies huddle around the sink when I step inside the, ugh, windowless bathroom. Great. I stroll over next to them, pretending to fix my hair, while I think of my next move. What I really need is a decoy, a distraction.
The woman next to me, with bright blue eyes and a mass of strawberry curls applies lip-gloss to her plump lips.
“I love that brand.” I smile, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Looks great on you.”
“Thanks,” she blots her lips together, slurring a bit. “I’ll tell you what looks great—that dress. Is that Valentino?”
“Marchesa.” An idea forms. A wild, wild idea. She's about the same size as me, and, hallelujah, she's tipsy. “I like yours better.”
She looks down at her gold gown and frowns. “It’s not me.”
I nod, barely able to contain my excitement over my good luck. Five minutes later, with zero coaxing needed on my part for my almost doppelgänger to switch, I am now dressed in gold.
“I love it,” she exclaims, preening in front of the mirror, marveling at her now red gown. “Back to the party.”
But, not me, I let her exit first and then hustle down the hallway and out onto the streets.
I debate on which way to go.
Who cares. Just run girl.
I glance back, checking to be sure the coast is clear, and then I bolt. How anyone can maintain speed racing over black asphalt in heels is beyond me. But I am doing it. I'm like the wind.
I round the corner and run smack dab into a wall of muscle. Strong, hard muscle.
Two arms wrap around my body.
“Going somewhere?” Xavier’s rich voice asks.
I push against his solid chest. “Well, I was before you blocked my path like a linebacker on steroids.” I glance up to his not amused eyes.
“Don’t think I won’t put a leash on you.”
He leans close. “I’m always ten steps ahead of you, Rhi. Remember that.”
I swallow, but can’t get past the lump in my throat.
“Let go,” I say, barely above a whisper, barely to be heard by him at all.
“Don’t test me, because I promise you, I won’t fail.”
I can’t think of a retort right now, because his lips are so close to mine. I remember what they felt like. I could raise on my tiptoes and kiss him just like that. He’d probably let go then. But I don’t.
Instead I grit my teeth and admit my temporary defeat. “Fine. I’ll be a good little girl.”
He licks his lips, eyes zeroed in on my mouth as he releases me. “Any other time I’d encourage you to be a bad girl, but not tonight. Let’s go home.”
As we slide into his car, I'm not sure which is more concerning: the fact I liked the way he said bad girl or the delusional pang I got in my chest when he ‘let’s go home.’
Probably the latter.
And that's even more reason to get out of here.
Chapter 18
