Page 31 of Craving Danger

I’ve been looking forward to seeing him again, but I’m also nervous as hell because I’m moving to the next stage.

When I made the appointment, I requested that he sit on the armchair while I lay on the bed.

My heart lurches in my chest when I think about it. It won't be easy but I feel it would be a massive win if I can get through it.

But the fear of not being able to go through with it keeps me from leaving the table and going to the room.

He’s waiting. Get up and go.

You won’t know until you try.

Sipping on my second martini, I stare at the olive in the glass while I try to build up my courage.

I can do this.

He works for Paradiso, so I know he won’t try anything.

I’m sure I’m safe with him.

I can do this.

Suddenly, someone sits down across me, and my head snaps up. My eyes meet my mystery man’s dark brown ones briefly before I stare at the olive again.

Knowing I’m wasting his time, I say, “I’m sorry. I just need a couple of minutes.”

“There’s no rush, Samantha.” His tone is so gentle it makes me feel slightly emotional. “We can just talk.”

I shake my head, and taking a fortifying breath, I put the glass on the table and get up from the stool. “No. I want to try.”

He stands up, and I’m suddenly overly conscious about how much bigger than me he is.

I wait for him to lead the way before I follow. My eyes are locked on his broad shoulders and muscled arms.

He could easily hurt me.

He could kill me.

A light layer of sweat beads on my forehead, and my breaths come faster.

When he opens the door and walks into the room, my feet come to a stop, refusing to take me a step further.

Shit.

My heart beats heavily in my chest, and it feels like the next step will throw me over the edge of a cliff without a parachute.

Don’t panic.

“You’re safe, Samantha,” my mystery man says, his voice filled with a world of patience.

Nothing is going to happen.

When I force my feet to move, my arms wrap around my waist, and I hold myself tightly as I enter the room. My eyes lock on the bed, and hearing him shut the door, my lips part so I can take deeper breaths.

I watch as he takes a seat in the armchair, and leaning forward, he rests his forearms on his knees and links his fingers.

I step closer to the bed, and once I’m next to it, I stop to calm my racing heart.

“This is insane, right?” the question bursts from me, and unable to stop, I start to ramble, “All I have to do is lie down while you sit there. It should be easy.” My breaths come faster and faster. “I should be able to do this.”

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