Chapter Thirteen
Skye
Everything is so surreal.
“Gotcha, motherfucker,” Agent Philips says to the man who is still trying to get his bearings after being hauled off my body and thrown to the other side of the room. GD clearly taken by surprise, rises to his feet and shakes his head, seemingly clearing up his confusion.
Agent Philips shrugs out of his suit jacket, loosens his tie, rolls his shoulders, and lifts his fists, ready for combat. His muscles bulge, and I can’t get air into my lungs.
“The name is Kai Davidson, motherfucker.”
Kai, is that GD’s real name? My thoughts come to an abrupt halt when GD—Kai lunges at Agent Philips.
“Thought I wouldn’t find you?” Agent Philip asks, amid some intricate martial arts moves.
“Yeah, what took you so long, fucker?” Kai says, doing some maneuver that lands Agent Philips on his back.
“Nice find, this cliff side cabin of yours. It masquerades well with the mountains.”
“Not to mention my extremely high-tech, undetectable, and untraceable Wi-Fi?”
“Yeah, that too,” Agent Philip agrees.
It’s not like they’re pausing to have this conversation. No, they're going at each other really hard. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoes around the room.
“My princess led me right to you. But she’s mine, big boy,” Agent Philips adds.
“Fuck no. She’s mine.” Kai roars so loud the cabin seems to shake.
Are they talking about me?
Kai comes toward me. I swallow in fear as he reaches out his big hand to my thighs. I’m stunned when he gently lifts my bottom and tugs my panties out from under me. He then brings them to his nose—my wet panties, to be precise—and deeply inhales my scent.
“She’s mine,” Kai reiterates.
Oh. My. God.
But before he can put them into his pocket, Agent Philips is on him, and they begin another fierce round of hand-to-hand combat. Agent Philips does his own victory roar when he gains possession of my underwear.
I close my eyes. This is crazy.
If I had worn a different kind of panties, not one that was held to my body with strings tied into little bows, but a normal one, Kai would have had to release my ankles to get them off, and I would have used that as an invitation to kick him in the chin and make my way out of here. But no.
It feels as if I’m an extra on the set of an action movie… my role is to be tied to the bed with my legs apart while two incredibly striking men, ribbed with power, try to tear each other’s heads off.
While Kai is big and heavy with muscle, and Agent Philips is leaner and less than an inch shorter, they’re matched strength for strength, but in different ways.
Agent Philip hauls himself headfirst into Kai, but the man remains standing. It’s so intense, their bodies moving with such fluidity and grace, and yet not one of them gets to land a punch on the other’s face without it being blocked. There’s no blood.
Furniture goes flying around the room. At one point, Kai has Agent Philips in what I think is a headlock, and instead of fighting for his life, Agent Philips takes a moment to look at me. Blood seeps into my cheeks. I try to close my legs, but it’s futile. He can see my pussy.
“Hello, Princess,” he says huskily, with Kai’s thick arm around his throat. But his gaze still darkens as it roams down my body before he kicks upward and manages to release himself from Kai’s hold.
If Kai is thunder, then Agent Philips is lightning. And yet it’s clear the only reason there isn’t a victor yet is because they both seem to know exactly what the other is going to do. As if they know each other. As if they know each other… really well.
What am I doing? This isn’t any of my business. I have my own problems. I should try to get myself out of these restraints and find a way back to my owndisastrous life.
I jerk furiously at the restraints, wishing I could miraculously get myself loose, get into a car, and get away. I don’t give up pulling at the binds on my wrists and my ankles. Argh, I need help. I need someone to help me.
At the precise moment of my silent plea, the door swings open for a second time.
I’m almost certain I’ve gone crazy. The tall frame, with broad shoulders, and his coat dusted with snow, stands in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight inside the cabin before he steps in. He drops the bags he’s carrying to the floor against the wall.
I blink repeatedly, convinced I’m seeing things.
“Oh, hello, Princess.”
My mouth falls open. My left cheek burns. My bottom lip burns. Even the tendril of hair he touched and then tucked behind my ear burns. Those are the places he touched me. This man.
Coming toward me is the same man who saved me from falling into a puddle of melted snow after an attempted mugging.
This is no longer surreal. It’s downright nuts.
What the hell is going on?