Chapter Five #2
But my mouth opened without a conscious thought as he tipped the bottle, letting the liquor flow past my parted lips.
The taste of cherries burst against my tongue, and I moaned low in my throat.
I didn’t know if it was just from the taste or the way I was putty in his hands.
His eyes darkened as I swallowed, his grip tightening in my hair.
My tongue darted out to catch a drop on my lips.
“Better than whiskey?” There was a roughness to his voice now, like he was fighting for control. He let go of my hair, his fingers trailing down the back of my neck before he stepped back.
“Much better.” I wanted to kick myself for how breathless I sounded.
My entire body was still humming from his touch, and I realized that I was in dangerous territory.
“I’m going to get ready for bed.” The words came out low and husky, and I knew by the way his eyes darkened that it sounded like an invitation. Like I meant getting ready for him.
But fuck it, he’d be knocked out in a few minutes anyway, and I’d be long gone by morning, so it didn’t matter what he thought.
So I grinned as I sauntered past him, my arm brushing against his.
Heat was coming off his body in waves, but before I could take another step, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, spinning me around.
I collided with his chest, my palms bracing against the hard muscles beneath his shirt. He was so warm, it was like I was standing too close to the fire.
“What are you doing, Seraphine?” he growled, holding me tight against him.
“Nothing,” I murmured, my gaze dropping to his mouth before I could stop myself.
He gripped my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “You’re playing a very dangerous game, little lamb.”
“Maybe I like playing dangerous games, Valen.” Obviously, a lie, but hey, whatever I needed to do until the pills kicked in.
His thumb traced my bottom lip, my eyes widening at the touch.
Code red.
Code fucking red.
He studied me closely, like he was trying to see into my soul. A flash of understanding crossed his face, and I realized the exact moment he knew I was lying.
“You’re a terrible fucking liar.” He released my wrists, and I stumbled back, kicking myself for pushing things too far. “Get ready for bed.”
I rushed down the hall to the bathroom, locked myself in, and leaned against the door. That had gone in a direction I hadn’t seen coming. Note to self: Do not fake-flirt with an ex-convict you helped put in prison who wants nothing more than to destroy your life.
Water from the shower steamed the bathroom as I sat on the edge of the sink waiting, listening for any indication that he’d fallen asleep. After ten or so minutes, a faint snore drifted from his bedroom.
Good. The pills must be working now. I just needed to wait a little bit longer so I could make sure he was knocked out.
I counted out the steps to my plan in my head while I waited.
Get the keys. Find the gun in his shrine office. Borrow his snowmobile, because I wasn’t a thief. Head north until I reached my cabin. Lie low for a few days until the snow melts, then restart Operation Bait Killer.
Easy peasy.
I peeked my head out of the bathroom and found his bedroom door cracked open. A soft snore came from the room, and I tiptoed down the hallway. He was lying on his back, one leg propped up, the other hanging over the edge. He’d managed to get one boot off before apparently passing out.
My palms were sweating as I stood over him, peering down at his face. He looked relaxed. There was a softness to his face that I’d never seen before.
Guilt ran through me for a moment. Of course I’d never seen it.
You’re the villain in his story, remember?
My hands shook as I patted down his front pockets, feeling for the keys, but they weren’t there. Then I recalled how earlier in the evening he’d stuck them in his back pocket. They must still be there.
I watched his face closely, checking for any sign of movement. When I was satisfied that he was definitely not getting up, I rolled him.
Well, I tried to, but he might as well have been made of solid concrete. I gripped his shoulder, putting all my weight into it, managing to shift him maybe half an inch. I couldn’t reach into his back pocket at that angle, and I grunted in frustration.
Saying a silent prayer, I climbed onto the bed and straddled his thighs for better leverage.
“Come on,” I whispered, grabbing onto his shoulder with both hands.
He was one hundred percent muscle. Basically dead weight that refused to cooperate.
I leaned forward, pressing my chest against his as I tried to reach around him and get into his pocket.
The position was dangerously intimate.
Too intimate.
My face was inches from his, my body practically molded to him as I struggled to slip my hand beneath him. I tried to ignore the way his chest rose and fell steady beneath me, his skin hot to the touch.
God, was he made out of lava? Why the hell was he always so hot?
Finally, I found the edge of his pocket, but I had to practically lie on top of him to work my hand inside. The keys were there; I could feel the tip of the metal as I wiggled my hand between him and the mattress.
I was so focused on what I was doing that I almost missed the subtle change in his breathing. It became more shallow. Controlled. I froze, my fingers wrapped around the keys.
He can’t be awake.
There’s no fucking way he’s awake.
I held my breath, hyperaware of every part of our bodies that were touching: my chest pressed to his, my thighs straddling him, my hand underneath his body. I lifted my head slowly, praying to God, to Satan, to anyone who would listen, that his eyes were still closed.
Instead, I met his very much open, and very much alert, gaze.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. His eyes were dark, pupils slightly dilated from the pills.
But for some odd reason, let’s call it karma, he was far more awake and alert than he should have been.
He should have been knocked unconscious, but I could tell he was barely drowsy.
Either he was Superman, or he’d figured out my plan before I’d even crushed the first pill.
Confusion flashed across his face, his gaze roaming over the way my hips straddled his, then down my arm to my hand buried underneath him. This definitely looked like I was about to do something very different than steal his keys.
“It’s OK, you’re just dreaming,” I whispered, biting my bottom lip.
His eyes narrowed, the confusion melting away into something predatory and dangerous as the realization must have hit him.
Before I could move, he gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh. He rolled us over in one fluid motion, pinning me beneath his solid weight. I gasped at the sudden shift, my legs involuntarily wrapping around him.
“What the hell did you give me?” he growled, rough and laced with sleep.
My heart was beating wildly, his face inches from mine. “Nothing, sleepy head, you must be tired.” My voice came out breathier than I intended.
A low sound vibrated through his chest and into mine. “I should have fucking known.” Without breaking eye contact, he reached over to the nightstand, the movement causing his hips to press more firmly against mine.
If I hadn’t been afraid that he was about to murder me right then and there, I might have enjoyed the sensation, but now was not the time.
“Valen, listen…”
The click of metal echoed through the quiet room, cool steel tightening around my wrist. He secured the other cuff to his wrist, a dark look in his eye.
“What are you doing?” I sputtered, glaring at the handcuffs linking us together.
“Something I should have done days ago.” His breath was warm against my lips. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his keys and threw them on the other side of the room. “I told you, little lamb, you’re not going anywhere until I say so.”
The metal keys clattered across the floor, out of reach. I was trapped, not just in the cabin, but in the bed of the very man I was hell-bent on trying to escape.
And from the predatory look in his eyes, maybe that had been his plan all along.
As his breath evened out and he fell asleep, for real this time, I realized one thing.
He’d let me think I was the hunter, when really, I was the prey.