Don’t tell anybody I shared it.
Title, release info, etc, to be announced soon-ish.
You are not going to do this Stockholm shit!
My mind said it over and over and over as his mouth pressed to mine, as he slid one hand up my knee and his free arm went around my back, a firm brace that didn’t imprison but also didn’t allow for much movement either. His taut body was hot and hard and strong, the wiry strength the kind I would have found fascinating any other time. I could see myself wanting to draw him, watch him when he wasn’t looking so I could commit the lines of him to memory.
But this wasn’t any other time.
The hand on my knee slid higher, along my side and my breath caught. Tensing, I braced for him to grab my boob, but he grazed by, going completely past and to my horror, my nipples drew tight and throbbed in resentment. My pulse was slamming by the time he curved his hand over my neck and tugged me in closer, arching my head back.
In the dim light, I couldn’t make out the green of his eyes, but to me, they seemed darker, so much more intense, so much more dangerous as he bent me closer.
“He’s ten feet away. You decide what happens, Tia.”
He kissed me then, his mouth absurdly gentle and such a distraction that I couldn’t figure out what he meant. Ten feet away? Who? O’Halloran? I’d finally figured out we were heading west—then that phone call.
His tongue came into my mouth, past the paltry barrier of my parted lips and a startled groan left me.
I didn’t like kissing.
I mean, I never had.
I’d put up with it with one or two of the guys I’d dated, and there had been one guy I’d been somewhat serious about who had actually somewhat decent at it so I’d grown to…well, not hate it.
But I never liked it.
Except that weird noise just now? It had come from me. His tongue toyed with mine, teased, then withdrew and he caught my lower lip. I shivered as he bit me and that was when I realized my fingers hurt. I’d reached for him, my left hand clutching at his shoulder and my fingers all but sank into the hard pad of muscle there, as if I was trying to leave permanent impressions on his skin.
He lifted his head a bare inch and in the ever-growing light, he stared at me. He had a faint glitter in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. I had no time to process it either because his mouth was back on mine and the arm he’d wrapped around my back had shifted. Now he played his fingers over the small of my back and I shivered, the light tough far more erotic than if he’d dipped his hand between my thighs.
I jerked in surprise.
The man holding me—my kidnapper—let go. His hand fell from my neck. He stopped kissing me. His head sank back onto the padded headrest and he gazed at me from under lashes that I could now see were tipped with gold. We touched all along the right side of my body where I pressed against him, and my ass, hips and legs. But he wasn’t holding me. His left hand still danced over my lower back but it was light, gentle stroke, nothing at all restraining me.
The look in his eyes was clear, his words echoing in my head. He’s ten feet away. You decide what happens, Tia.