Because of course he remembered what she looked like, even though at the time he'd made himself ignore her nudity as he'd stripped the wet bloodstained clothes from her shivering body, wrapping her up in a towel.
Yet he wasn't thinking of that, but of her in his lap, arching into his hand …
Fuck. He was getting hard. Definitely time to get out of here.
Digging his fingers into her arm, he tugged her away. "Time to go, princess."
Again she resisted. "Let me try these on."
"You can back at the apartment."
"Yeah, and I'll freeze to death before I get back there." That steely determination was back in her eyes again. "It'll only take me a couple of minutes, I promise. I'll put the clothes on, then we can leave."
He shouldn't care, he really shouldn't.
Outside the wind had picked up and, judging by the temperature, there was probably going to be another late-winter fall of snow.
She's cold. One minute won't make much difference.
Elijah cursed under his breath. "One minute."
She blinked a little and her mouth opened, as if she hadn't been expecting him to capitulate and wanted to say something. Then, clearly thinking better of it, she shut it again and turned away, heading toward the fitting rooms without another word.
If he hadn't been watching her carefully, he might have missed the spark of what looked like triumph in her gaze.
Clever little bitch. Well, whatever it was she was planning-and she was obviously planning something-she wasn't going to get far, not if he could help it.
He followed her to the fitting rooms down the back of the store and when she went into one, he stepped inside it with her.
She whirled around, holding the clothes she'd taken against her chest. "What the hell are you doing? Ever heard of privacy?"
"After what happened the last time I left you alone? I don't think so." He closed the door firmly behind them then leaned back against it, folding his arms. "Now put those clothes on."
"Are you kidding?" Temper glowed in her eyes. "Not with you standing there."
"Too bad. You've got one minute to change and if not, then I guess getting warm isn't so very important to you after all."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Prick. The fucking prick. Then again, did she really expect anything different? She could even understand his reasons, considering the last time he'd left her on her own, she'd ended up in a tub full of bloody bathwater.
Still, she didn't want him staring at her while she got changed. Unfortunately it seemed as if he had other ideas.
This could be good, though. Remember what you wanted to do?
Violet narrowed her eyes at him. She probably could have gotten away while walking down the street to get here. All it would have taken would have been a quick jerk to pull out of his grip, or maybe a scream to draw attention. He would have to let her go if he didn't want people looking at him or calling the cops. But then she'd have him on her tail like the freaking Terminator, and she had no doubt at all he'd be ruthless in getting her back. Not to mention that other people might get hurt were he do to so.
So she had to find another way. A way to make him want to let her go. If she could get him to lower his guard, see her as a person, a woman espeically, that might generate some sympathy in him for her. Get him to empathize with her.
A pretty tall order for a man who seemed entirely carved out of black ice.
Then again, he'd touched her. Had run his fingers over her with gentleness. He'd even taken care of her too, all of which made her believe that there was an actual human being underneath all that ice.
She just had to find him, release him. Psychology 101.
"Fine," she said crisply as she shoved the hangers full of clothing at him. "Hold these."
It was only an instinctive reaction that had him grabbing the hangers before they fell to the ground, she was sure. But grab them he did and because she was watching, she didn't miss the flicker of surprise on his face.
Excellent. Surprise was good. Surprise meant he was off guard.
She stepped back, bending to take off her boots. Then, barefoot, she straightened, her hands falling to the scarf she had wrapped around her waist. It didn't take much to undo it, a small tug, her gaze holding his.
Another flicker of reaction moved through those black eyes, though what it was, she couldn't tell.
The scarf dropped to the floor and she let it, her fingers moving to the buttons on the coat, undoing them one by one. Then she shrugged out of it, letting that drop to the floor as well so she stood in front of him wearing the long-sleeved T-shirt he'd given her and nothing else.
The store's music blared, that hard, driving beat making her feel like she was part of some kind of strip show. Which oddly enough helped, because that's exactly what this was.
If he was so determined to stay here and watch, then she was going to make sure he got his money's worth. Anything to get under that icy exterior of his.
She reached for the hem of the shirt, her fingers curling underneath it, her heart starting to beat faster and faster. If she took this off, she'd be naked. Right in front of him.
He's seen it before.
Yeah, he had, when he'd taken her from the bath and stripped all her clothes off. But somehow that was different. She'd been in pain and shock, and he'd been very matter-of-fact. He hadn't lingered and most importantly, he hadn't stared at her the way he was now. Because that stare made it different. Made her nervous. And yet … it made her excited too.
Jesus. She was getting off on this, no doubt about it, which either made her sick or desperate, or possibly both.
Stop procrastinating and do it.
Violet gripped the hem of the T-shirt and jerked it up and over her head before she could think more. Then she flung that down on the floor too, lifting her chin and meeting his gaze.
A wave of goose bumps washed over her and it had nothing to do with the chill.
Because there was something in his eyes, the same thing that had been there when he'd held her in his arms and touched her. A dark, relentless kind of hunger that seemed to be fixed on her and her alone.
His gaze raked down her body in a slow, deliberate way before rising back to her face again, and she couldn't seem to look away. There was the faintest wash of color on his high cheekbones, his beautiful, scarred mouth hard. His jaw had gone tight, his whole posture still and vibrating with tension.
His eyes glittered, black and hot as tar as they stared into hers.
Oh yeah, he wanted her alright, she could see it plain as day.
The goose bumps washing over her became prickles of heat, the nervousness sitting in her gut shifting, changing. And for the first time since he'd taken her, Violet felt the balance of power tilt in her favor.
She almost smiled. Who knew getting naked could actually make her feel like she was in charge of things?
Holding his gaze, she took a couple of steps toward him, coming closer. Watching as the expression on his face became more intense, the flame in his eyes burning hotter. His knuckles were white on the hangers of clothes, the plastic creaking under the pressure of his grip as she approached.
Even better. This was working far more effectively than she'd thought. Shit, if she'd known he'd react like this, she needn't have carved that hole in her arm at all. She should have just taken her clothes off first up.
She stopped in front of him, only inches away, her pulse loud in her head, triumph and exhilaration threading through her. "You can hand me those panties if you like," she murmured. "Because as you can see, I don't have any."
He didn't look down, kept that intense black stare on hers. "What did I say about playing me, princess?" There was a rough edge in his voice, a dark heat that made something inside her shiver.
"I'm not playing you," she said calmly. "Obviously if I'm going to put on those clothes, I have to take off the ones I'm wearing. And since you refused to leave … " She let that hang there, raising a brow at him. "I didn't think you'd have such a problem with me being naked."
Abruptly the plastic hangers and clothes fell to the floor and warm, astonishingly strong fingers wrapped themselves around her throat.
Her heart just about stopped beating.
And then she was being turned, swung around so it was she who was standing with her back pressed to the fitting room door, Elijah standing in front of her with one hot palm resting on her throat, the other flat on the door beside her head.
Her pulse rate rocketed, panic flaring inside her. And yet along with it, an intense awareness of his hand on her skin. Of her own nakedness. Of the cool wooden door at her back.
Of the darkness of his eyes as they stared down at her. Of the heat in them …
A heat totally at odds with the ice in his voice as he said, "You're manipulating me, Violet. Don't think I don't know what you're doing."
A tremor shook her that had nothing to do with the fact that he saw right through her, that he knew exactly what she'd intended, and everything to do with the feel of his hand on her, a heat that burned right through her skin, down through muscle and bone, leaving an imprint on the very fabric of her being. A scar she'd never get rid of.