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“Saint!” I hiss. “I thought we were done with this. Remember, five seconds ago, when you knocked on my front door like a civilized person?”
His head and mask tilt, the unsettling white smile making my stomach flip. “Come on now, muse. We both know I’ll never be civilized.”
My hands shake. “That sounds like a you problem.”
“Now.” He steps forward, the mask turning his growl into the sexiest I’ve ever heard. “Are you going to come with me like a good girl, or will I have to chase you?”
Of course I should’ve known he wouldn’t give up so easily. He wasn’t heading to his car to leave—he was grabbing the supplies he needed to drag me out of here.
Backing away, I remind him, “I already said I’m not going anywhere.”
Despite everything, I know I can trust him. He won’t hurt me. But nervous energy still somersaults in my stomach. A thrill from not knowing what he’s going to do next. From still not fully understanding what he is truly capable of.
The unpredictable masked man before me sends a trickle of fear down my spine. But with it, a dose of liquid heat pools between my legs.
“You don’t want to play hard to get,” he purrs. “I won’t lose.”
When Saint steps toward me, I spin on my heel and race for the stairs, the flashlight bobbing in my hand the only light guiding my path.
His footsteps thunder after me, making my heart pound. My house isn’t big enough to hide in. Whatever closet I duck into, he’ll swiftly find me.
I dart into my pitch-black bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind me. He rattles the knob. “Muse,” he calls in a singsong voice. “How wet are you for me?”
Son of a bitch. He’s acting out my kidnapping kink. “This isn’t funny, Saint! I told you that was a joke!”
A low chuckle answers. “Show me your panties and prove it.”
I strip them off from under my skirt, unlock the door, and toss them at his mask. He catches them when they start to fall and lifts them to his nose, inhaling. “So wet for me. Shall I fuck you before or after I have you tied up?”
I swing the door toward him, but his hand blocks it before it shuts. He charges in after me and grabs me while I scramble to open the window.
Saint claps a hand over my mouth when I scream. His voice rumbles in my ear. “Quiet, muse. You might disturb the neighbors.”
I kick out at him, fighting his hold like a rabid animal until I manage to break free of his hand covering my mouth. “It was a joke! You’re fuckingcrazy!”
“That’s why we get along so well. I am exactly your kind of crazy.”
I elbow him in the gut, managing to spin out of his grasp. “You’re not tying me up, and you’re not taking me anywhere.”
“You deserve a break,” he soothes beneath his mask, taking a slow step toward me. “A writing retreat to renew your passion. I only want the best for you, Briar.”
Honestly, a writing retreat does sound nice. A dream that’s been on my bucket list for years, but I never thought I would take one until I was published. I didn’t think I deserved to go on a retreat until I was making money off my writing.
But staying with Saint in his secluded manor sounds like the stupidest possible decision I could make. I still don’t fully trust him. The only two people I trust with my entire soul are Momand Mack, and I don’t plan on extending that level of trust to anyone else.
Besides, Saint needs to know that he doesn’t make decisions for me. “You don’t control me, and you can’t decide where I go or what I do. You may think of me as a muse who exists for you, to serve you and your creative endeavors, but I’m an actual person with a brain and will of her own.”
He chuckles, continuing to approach me. “I am well aware. That’s what I love about you. No one will ever control your mind.” When he reaches me, I don’t run. I don’t give him the satisfaction. “That’s why you so desperately want me to control your body.” A finger slips from my jaw to my collarbone, setting me on fire. “To control your pleasure.”
I jerk away from him, but I’m too late. Saint pins me to the floor, all the air whooshing out of my lungs.
He drops a roll of duct tape by my head, and I writhe and shout beneath him. Holy shit. He’s going to tie me up.
Arousal floods between my legs, heart pounding. Maybe it wasn’t a mistake to tell Saint about my kidnapping kink after all.
He holds me down while he rips off a long piece of duct tape and wraps it around my wrists one, two, three, four times.
“Asshole!” I shout before he rips more duct tape from the roll.
