Chapter 3 Cade
CADE
The trunk opens, and I blink up at Ansel, who looks less sassy than earlier and more scared. My brows draw together. Hm, I don’t like that. Not one bit. Is he not having fun? I know I am.
I lift my head slightly, frowning at him. “Hey, why the long face?”
Now he’s the one frowning. “I don’t have a long face.”
“Your face is very pretty. Not actually long at all. What I meant is, you look scared.”
His throat bobs. He squares his shoulders, and I can tell he’s going for intimidating. It’s so fucking adorable. Makes me want to squash him in a hug. “I’m not scared. Not at all. Now get up.”
Ansel pokes me in my bare chest, and I bite my bottom lip in anticipation. I like him touching me.
He can do that anytime.
I sigh dramatically. “I think you need to help me again. I’m very weak and incapable.”
His eyes fall on my abs, and I flex them a little so he can really see the definition. I’m proud of these babies. What’s the point in spending as much time as I do in the gym if you don’t show them off?
Ansel still hasn’t looked away. “I think that core can get you up all by yourself.”
“Admiring me, huh?”
He flushes. “No. I hate abs. They’re gross, really. Not natural at all.”
Now that’s a lie. Who doesn’t like abs? Especially the ones I have? They’re literal perfection.
When I continue to just lie in the trunk, Ansel scowls, his hands going to his hips. “Seriously, get up. I don’t have the muscles to carry you inside.”
But I could carry you inside. I try to get the horny part of my brain under control, but it’s difficult when this is the most fun I’ve had in years. “And where exactly are you taking me?”
He glances behind him, and when I follow his line of vision, I feel my pants tighten a little more. It’s better than I could’ve hoped—just one small building and no one else around for, hopefully, miles.
Perfection.
“Oh, that little shack over there? How very unassuming.”
Ansel purses his lips and then reaches down and grabs my bicep like he did earlier.
I flex it so he can feel how strong I am, but he’s seemingly unimpressed.
He just tugs and grunts, those little sounds of frustration really doing it for me, until I swing my legs out of the trunk and hop up.
My hands are still tied behind me, and I pretend like I can’t undo the knot he used.
It really isn’t a suitable one for the shirt restraint he has me in.
What would have been better is zip-ties.
But he’s young and acted impulsively.
He’ll get it eventually. If he’s serious about doing this as a career path, I can teach him all the ways. Just call me the Mr. Miyagi of kidnapping. Wax on, wax off, rub me all over.
I step around him, brushing against his side as I make my way to the small dilapidated cabin. He inhales shakily but doesn’t say anything.
I pause and glance back over my shoulder, seeing that he’s still standing by the car.
He’s staring at me, blinking in confusion.
He’s probably wondering why I’m going willingly.
To be fair, I’ve never kidnapped anyone who walked themselves into their own prison, so I understand the narrowed, suspicious gaze.
But listen, if he knew who I really was, he’d throw me right back where he found me.
And I’m not ready to go. Not yet.
I want to know more about this man who kidnapped me, put me in his trunk, and took me to a sex shack.
Fuck, I sure hope it’s a sex shack.
I should also try and find out exactly why he’s brought me here. Even if he meant to kidnap “Brad” instead, I should work out what’s going on. Wylder will have my head if I don’t.
Work can come later though. Ideally, right after both Ansel and I have.
“You coming?” I call, trying to hide my bemusement. From how Ansel scowls, I think I’m unsuccessful.
“You have something up your sleeve.”
I flex my biceps again. “Literally have no sleeves on right now.”
I grin widely as he stomps forward. He gets right up in my face. Well, he tries. Even on tiptoes he barely clears my chin.
“I don’t trust you.”
“Hey, now.” I pout. “I’m not the one kidnapping people at bars. I’m innocent.”
Internally, I giggle. I’m definitely not innocent. Not at all. If he knew half the things I’ve done, he’d run. And, like I said, as I’m not ready for this to be over, I’m keeping quiet.
“Come on,” he mutters and pulls me forward.
I almost skip inside, taking in the broken floorboards and the cobwebs in the corners.
There’s a fireplace, a rickety bed with a dusty quilt on it, and a desk and chair.
A doorway leads to another small room that looks as dilapidated as this one.
A second doorway reveals a clean but tiny bathroom.
In terms of nailing the atmosphere, my butterfly gets top marks. The only way to make it creepier would be to have a table where torture instruments and bondage materials are on display.
Did I say creepier? I meant sexier.
He lets go of me and pulls the chair out, pointing to it. “Sit.”
I land so fast on the chair that I nearly topple over. Part of me wonders if I should reel myself in a bit, but I’ve never been very good at that. I have to mask enough in polite society that I don’t want to do it during my private time.
Especially not when I’m sharing said private time with someone as intriguing as the guy currently in front of me.
Ansel hasn’t moved. His head is cocked to the side as he studies me. I’m clearly not behaving how he expected. Either that, or he genuinely doesn’t know what to do next.
“Tie me up, butterfly,” I say with an encouraging smile. “Rope, if you have it.”
Ansel rolls his eyes. “I’m doing that. Jesus. Don’t micromanage me.”
“I’m not micromanaging. I’m teaching.”
“You’re a shit teacher.”
That makes my lips fall into a frown. “Now, that’s not nice.”
“What’s not nice is putting yourself in my trunk and then walking in here like you have nothing better to do. That’s not how this is supposed to go, you know? You’re supposed to fight harder.”
My lips twitch. Oh, if my butterfly wants me to get a little rough with him, I have no issues with that. “And you know how it’s supposed to go? Forgive me. I didn’t realize I was dealing with such an expert kidnapper.”
That’s the moment the knot around my wrists decides to give up the ghost. The shirt falls to the floor, leaving me unrestrained.
He swivels his head to stare at it, his teeth sinking into his lip. Poor guy looks nervous again. Maybe I won’t take this moment to point out the obvious.
That he has no idea what he’s doing.
I think that would just upset him even more.
When Ansel moves his gaze back to me, I put my arms behind my back again. I’m sitting docile, like the good little victim I can be. It’s funny—my brothers often joke that I’d be the worst of us to kidnap.
Turns out, that fully depends on who the kidnapper happens to be.
“Force me, then,” I tell Ansel. “Make me stay here in this chair. Tie me up.”
My words don’t comfort him. The opposite, in fact. His nostrils flare as he stomps behind me. He rummages in something I can’t see and then wrenches my arms back a little too roughly. It is indeed a rope that he’s tying this time. It scratches over my skin, making me groan.
That only makes him rougher.
Oh yes. I like how feisty he is. How angry. I want him to slap me around a little, make me bleed. Just a bit—a few little kitty scratches down my back as I pound into that tight little ass.
“There.”
I say nothing, not wanting to upset him. So I sit still, like a statue. Like a motherfucking Michaelangelo sculpture. Bigger dick than that dude, but still.
Fucking statuesque.
When he rounds me once more, he just stares. I give it right back. Not even blinking. I’ll win this game.
I always win. Unless it’s more fun to lose.
Ansel’s nose wrinkles. “Stop looking at me like that.”
I say nothing, just continue to stare. My eyes are starting to burn, but still, I don’t move. My eyelids twitch, but they don’t fully close. They’re just set on him, on winning this little…whatever this is.
Tryst, my mind shouts.
A date tryst. Second date, perhaps? If I count it in locations, then maybe.
“Stop staring at me.”
Oh, he’s getting angry again.
I smile. “You said not to fight too hard.”
“No, I didn’t. You’re insane. I said nothing of the sort.
I said I want you to fight a little harder.
This isn’t a kidnapping, this is a…” He thrusts his hands through his hair.
“This is you walking into this cabin like you’ve been here before…
like this is no big deal. So I want you to fight me. To make it feel even.”
“Oh, my sweet little butterfly,” I begin, and he folds his arms across his chest. “If I do that, you know I’ll win.”
“You don’t know that.”
My tongue flicks out over my lip as I think of all the ways we could fight. “But I do.”
He moves around the back of my chair to make sure I’m still tied. The knot is a much better one this time, which makes sense given he set that handy little trap for me. I could get out still. If I wanted to. I have no desire to do that right now. I just want to wait and see what happens next.
This is the best second date I’ve had by far.
Ansel wrecks all my fun by going into the other room and leaving me alone. I spend the next hour or so trying to get to know him better. By which I mean calling out a variety of questions covering everything from his favorite food to what star sign he is.
He’s totally a Gemini with how he’s been flipping from shy to flirty and from determined to scared.
Not that he confirms this. He doesn’t answer a single one of my questions. It’s quite rude for a second date. Isn’t this the time when you really get to know one another?
“What’s your favorite color?” I call out.
He shuts the door with a slam.
Doubly rude, but still sexy as hell.