NaturesBounty(17)

As they headed for the bedroom, the handcuffs behind her dug into her wrists as a painful reminder that the recent past had just caught up with her future. She’d always loved the bedroom at the beach house, with its bright and cheery oranges and lime greens. But now, it was in complete discord with the situation.

Nate sat her on the bed, which was covered in a motif of orange blossoms, and stepped back.

“Now get out and let me change,” she said, and she snarled at him in disgust when he shook his head.

“That’s not going to happen, sorry.”

“Why not? Didn’t you get enough of a sick thrill pegging me before you slapped on the cuffs?”

She had the satisfaction of seeing him wince. So, the underhanded prick had a whiff of a conscience. Imagine that.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he said, “and in case it hasn’t occurred to you, I highly doubt you’d be able to Houdini your way into a change of clothes with your hands cuffed behind your back.”

Her eyes widened. “So you think you’re going to dress me too? No way.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But since that bikini shows off your entire ass, I have to insist you at least put some pants on.”

“Funny, because I seem to remember you insisting the exact opposite thing a short while ago.”

He glanced around without answering, and she took that opportunity to regard him with new eyes. So, he was a bounty hunter, not a stripper. She’d been right when the sudden knock on her door had sent her into a panic. In her defense, he certainly had the right equipment for a stripper. He was fuck-me-now gorgeous, with the lustrous, caramel-colored hair of a movie star and the erotic, pale-green eyes of a god. Even before he’d stripped down to his t-shirt, she’d felt his hard muscles and powerful arms through a suit that made him look downright fuckable. And why did he have to smell so damn good? Even now, his scent filled the room, taunting her with memories of what she’d just let him do to her. One would think a bounty hunter would smell like a beer-bellied hobo, not a male cologne model.

There had been a couple of odd clues, of course. He was hairier than most strippers she’d seen, not that she was some big expert on the subject. Still, she’d been around enough for a reasonable comparison. Those guys not only waxed their bodies, but oiled themselves until they gleamed. She’d discovered the fun of cleaning oil-stained clothing after a close encounter. But when she had torn Nate’s shirt open, she had found a masculine and quite appealing mat of hair on his unoiled chest.

Then there’d been the condom thing. While she’d never actually fucked a male dancer herself, she’d attended parties where the guest of honor had received a rather wild interpretation of a lap dance. The men offering them brought a rather colorful assortment of rubbers along on the job. Which was pretty disgusting, now that she thought about it.

She watched him head for the lime-colored dresser, noticing how the tight, black fabric of his t-shirt stretched over his biceps, chest and a narrow waist that was definitely stripper-worthy. And Valerie had confirmed everything, so of course she’d fallen for his trick.

Why had Valerie said that? Maybe the bail bond office had threatened her with jail if she didn’t cooperate. Hell, there’d probably never been a stripper at all. It had all just been a ploy for Nate to mix business and pleasure in one blow. And what a blow it had been. The size of his cock and the way he used it, well, that was something she would not let herself think about again until she was reporting this entire incident to the authorities. Cop or not, surely bounty hunters had some code of ethics they were supposed to follow? How many other women had he used this stripper ruse on to gain access to their homes and their pussies, no less?

Another stab of greasy nausea shot through her stomach at the thought, but it thankfully passed.

Meanwhile, Nate was busy yanking open dresser drawers. “All these are empty.”

She rolled her eyes. “How very perceptive of you. With brains like that, no wonder you went into detective work.”

Nate moved over to the closet, shoving open the louvered doors to reveal a neat, but modest row of clothing she had organized in order of type and color. What a dope. Then again, she’d had a ton of nervous energy on her hands, some of which she’d just expended in a heated rush of passion with the man who was rooting around in her wardrobe. With his back partly turned.

She glanced at the door that was several feet away from where he was standing.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, shoving hangers around. Did the man have eyes behind his head? “Whatever you think you can do to escape, it won’t work. I’d be on you before you could make it five feet.”