Chapter 6
SIX
Oh my god. I can’t see anything!
Pounding footfalls behind me make my skin turn into shrink wrap. “Leave me alone!” I pant.
When I think all is lost, a red light flickers like a lighthouse in the night. The Exit sign.
“Rosalie!” he growls, tone filled with command. “For fuck's sake, stop before you break your neck.”
Wait…how does he know my name?
I'm not stopping to find out.
The seams on my skirt are popping left and right. I don't know how many threads it's got left to go, but the opening's getting bigger.
The upside is the new fit is letting my legs go longer.
Flo-Jo would be proud of me. I'm hitting my stride.
I've never run so fast in my life. That's not saying much.
This girl runs from the ventilation hood to the centrifuge in my practical slip-ons. Amazing what thinking you're gonna die can do.
I steal another glance backward, a startled gasp ripping out of me when his dark form materializes way too close. Oh my god!
He's fast. And gigantic and really fit, not like the creep from earlier. I could have outrun him for sure.
But this is nuts.
I just need to get to the stairwell.
As if he can't chase me down the stairs. Only my very rattled brain fixates on this idea. Stairs equal escape!
James Bond would do that, right? He'd slide down the railing.
God. Yeah, that sounds like a really bad idea.
On cue, as if things couldn't get any messier, my foot slips on the tile and I scream. “Noooo!”
He mutters a curse as I try to catch my balance, both arms flinging out like training wheels.
Ooof!
My pursuer grabs me before I splat on the floor, lifting me completely off the ground.
“Enough,” he rasps next to my ear. As if that's not terrifying enough, he covers my mouth with a gigantic, calloused palm.
My brain blanks, then crackles back online. I can only think one thing. I like how hot his skin is.
What. The. Hell?
My reaction makes me angry.
“Let go!” My yell is muffled by a hand so big it covers my whole face.
On reflex, my legs start pinwheeling, searching for something soft to connect with.
Gonads to be specific.
He grunts, avoiding a direct hit as his arm tightens into an unforgiving steel band.
We struggle—or really, I struggle as he holds on. All the twisting causes the fabric of my shirt to shove up until my sweat-slicked skin is firmly glued to his bare arm.
Uh…
That tickles.
Belatedly I realize it's the coarse arm-hair on his forearm. And it's really freaking sexy.
Ugh. I am not attracted to this man.
I'm just not.
It must be sleep deprivation. Or oxygen deprivation from running. Or brain deprivation from sheer terror.
“Put me down.” Sounds more like “pmuhdn” as I pant angrily against the warm bulk of his hand.
“Shhhh. Be still,” he murmurs in a tone so low and so hot that my skin prickles.
Where did all the air from my lungs go?
“No. Please let me go,” I beg into his hand, even as something inside of me whispers, yes, hold me tighter.
Every detail about him comes into hyper-focus.
His scent.
The heat surrounding his power-packed frame.
The raspy sound of his breath just above my ear.
Gulp.
Time has slowed and I can sense everything in the universe at once and he's the center of it. A giant magnetic force, and I'm now caught in his orbit.
Jeeez. What monkey business is this?
My pitiful plea—didn't sound very convincing—doesn't stop him from arresting my flailing movement. This time by smooshing me against the wall.
No matter how hard he presses me flat, my body is wiggling all over the place like I'm being electrocuted by his hotness.
“Just stop,” he demands, the wind of his exhale igniting something strange inside of me. “Or I'll tie you up.”