Kidnapped by the Billionaire(20)

     



 

She stared up at him, searching his face, forgetting utterly what she  was supposed to be doing, yet not really knowing what she was looking  for. Only that what she wanted to see wasn't there.

You wanted him to drop his guard, remember?

Struggling to breathe-and not because his grip was cutting off her  airway, but because his touch had somehow emptied her lungs of  oxygen-she tried to focus on his rough, scarred features. Tried to see  past the blank walls behind his eyes.

Hunger glittered there, a raw, unguarded desperation that had nothing to  do with the chill in his voice or the hard expression on his face. A  hunger that for some reason he was keeping leashed tight. Because why  wouldn't he take her if he wanted her? He could, she would be powerless  to stop him.

Rape is for cowards and animals.

"You want me." The words came out of her in a husky whisper. "Don't think I don't see it."

The hunger in his eyes flared. "Pushing me is a bad fucking idea."

"Why?" The hand on her throat was so hot. God, he was so hot. His body  was like a goddamn furnace she wanted to warm herself against, because  she was cold. So very, very cold. "You keep saying that, but really, I  don't know why you keep warning me. You can't kill me and you don't seem  to want to hurt me. So why shouldn't I push you? You've taken me  hostage, shot at me, kept me prisoner in that stupid apartment of yours.  Don't you think I deserve a little payback?"

His gaze had dropped to her mouth, the hand around her throat lying  heavy on her skin. His thumb was pressing over one collarbone and there  was a slight movement to it, almost as if he was caressing her.

Violet's mouth dried, the touch igniting something inside her. The  realization of how hungry she was herself, how she was starving for  something though she didn't know what.

Yes, you do. You're starving for him.

No, she couldn't afford that. If she let that hunger rule her, there was  no telling when she'd be able to stop. It seemed inconceivable anyway.  This man was holding her captive in order to give her to some crime  boss, for God's sake. Why on earth would she want him?

And yet the way he'd touched her yesterday. There had been gentleness in  him, and heat, and desperation too. Everything she'd been craving for  herself  …

Dangerous. You're not supposed to go down this path.

"No," he said in a cold, flat voice. "I don't think you deserve anything at all."

His thumb pressed gently against the ridge of her collarbone, almost yet  not quite moving. His body was so close to hers, the heat of him  warming her bare skin. Her nipples had gone tight and hard, and she  could feel his breath against her neck.

Another shiver wracked her.

"I wouldn't mind, you know." The words came out hoarse and she hadn't  meant to say them, more spilling out before she could help herself. "If  you wanted to have me, I  …  I wouldn't mind."

Elijah's big body was motionless and she thought she saw shock in his  gaze. Then his expression closed down. His hand dropped away from her  throat and he took a step back, the look on his face impenetrable, the  dark flames in his eyes vanishing.

"Get dressed," he said curtly.

Then he pushed her gently to the side, pulled open the fitting room door, and walked out.



Elijah waited by the store counter, his hands in the pockets of his  leather bike jacket. One hand curling around his gun because shit, he  had to hold onto something that reminded him of his goddamn purpose.  Especially when he was also trying to quell the intense hard-on in his  jeans.

He couldn't get the sight of Violet out of his head. The way she'd  pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the ground, then stared at him,  her eyes full of challenge as she'd stood there completely naked.

Of course he'd known what he was in for when he'd joined her in the  fitting room. And he'd known she wouldn't be happy about it. But he  hadn't wanted to leave her there by herself because who knew what she'd  manage to get up to if he couldn't keep an eye on her? He couldn't  afford any surprises like the one she'd sprung on him in the bathtub the  day before. Especially not in public.

He'd thought he could handle her. He'd thought he had himself under  control enough that her taking off her clothes wouldn't affect him in  the slightest.

But he'd been wrong.

She'd walked toward him, her body smooth and golden and lushly curved,  and he'd felt the weight of every single day of the past seven years of  abstinence pressing down on him. Crushing him. Those small, high breasts  he'd touched, stroked. The graceful indent of her waist and the swell  of her hips. The soft thatch of golden curls between her thighs.         

     



 

He'd gotten hard, so hard, almost instantly. And she'd been all  determination, showing him she wasn't afraid, getting right up close.  He'd seen the triumph in those beautiful turquoise eyes of hers, had  known he hadn't hidden his desire from her as well as he'd thought.

So he'd had to assert himself somehow, show her he was still in control.

That didn't work out so well, did it?

He could feel the heat of her skin against his palm even now. Smell the  scent of her body, musk and sandalwood. He'd frightened her, and yet it  hadn't only been fear in her eyes; there had been heat there too.

All he'd been able to think about then was the way she'd been in his lap  the day before, the way she'd arched into his hand, wanting more. A  little cat wanting to be stroked.

Fuck, he'd wanted her. And that had made him so goddamn angry, because  he knew that she was also playing him. That she was using the strange  chemistry between them to get to him, probably using sex to change his  mind about giving her to Jericho.

You should have just taken her.

His fingers curled on the gun, the metal warming beneath his palm. The  fucking sales assistant was still talking on the phone, oblivious.

Perhaps he should have. He could have lifted her up against the door of  the fitting room and unzipped his jeans, let her sink down on his cock,  holding her there while he emptied himself of this ridiculous craving.

"I wouldn't mind … "

Christ, that husky voice, the spark of pure blue in her eyes as she'd  stared at him. …  She'd wanted him too. But he'd known in that instant he  couldn't do it. It was hard enough managing his own hunger let alone  hers, and bringing them together would be madness.

It would negate the whole of the last seven years.

Movement near the fitting rooms caught his attention, and he turned to  see Violet coming toward him, holding the empty hangers in her hands.

She wore a pair of tight-fitting black leather pants, a silky-looking  green top, and a black leather bike jacket. It was such a change from  her normal hippie-looking outfits that he couldn't help staring at her.  Gone was the free spirit in the chiming jewelry and brightly colored  silk skirts. In her place was a tough biker chick with a guarded, wary  expression.

He wasn't sure if that was an improvement or not.

Stopping by the counter, she handed him the hangers and the tags she'd  obviously removed from the clothes. "Here. You'll need these."

He took them from her and pulled out his wallet, adding up the prices  then extracting some cash and dumping it on the counter. The sales  assistant clearly had the phone attached to her ear because she didn't  stop talking, but he wasn't waiting. He didn't need the change anyway.

Grabbing Violet's arm again, he tucked her in close as they headed out of the store.

The walk back to the apartment was far more tense and she made no effort  to talk to him, which he appreciated. It was hard enough trying to keep  his mind on what he was supposed to be doing and not on the way the  smell of her leather jacket combined with her own scent to make  something new and utterly sensual.

Fuck, this was ridiculous. With any luck Jericho would be getting in  contact real soon and then she wouldn't be his problem anymore.

They came to a stop at an intersection, waiting for the signal. His  building was just up ahead and he was running over in his head his plans  for when Jericho got in contact, where he was going to get the man to  meet him, and how that was all going to play out.

Then Violet jerked suddenly away from him.

Because he was a little distracted, his reaction wasn't quite what it  should have been, his fingers closing around her arm just a fraction too  late.

He cursed viciously, but she was already running, flinging herself  across the street heedless of the traffic, ignoring the sounds of car  horns as she dodged them. And for a second he found himself watching in  amazement, because shit, the gall of the woman. She just never gave up,  did she?

Then he was running himself, plunging into the crowded mass of vehicles  after her. Tires squealed, more horns sounding, the shouts of drivers  echoing as he slid over the hood of one car then dodged a motorcycle. He  ignored all of them, his attention fixed on a small figure in black  running for her life down the sidewalk.

She hadn't a chance of course. He was stronger and faster, and although  fear must have given her wings, his anger was rocket fuel. She was his  only chance to get to Jericho, and he was not letting her get away.