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transportation of her own?
Axel scowled. Two and two wasn’t adding up. But he was a big boy. She wasn’t going to roll him. Not that she gave off the vibe that she planned to. No doubt, however, that she wanted him for something.
Not-Elise was getting more interesting by the minute. Not only was she the first woman he’d wanted in a while, but she’d be the first he’d take to bed in way too long strictly because he wanted her, not because she needed him.
The thought nagged him with a sludge of guilt, and he shoved it away.
“Popped in, huh?” he drawled.
Her flush deepened. “Shall we call a taxi?”
Like it would be simple getting one in this part of town? “My bike is over there, if that works for you.”
She followed his gaze and found his gleaming silver and black Ducati. “Can we?”
Had she never been on a motorcycle? Axel couldn’t figure this woman out and he kind of liked that. The way her face lit up made him eager to explore her. The thought that he’d be able to see her climb to orgasm in those pretty eyes turned him on even more.
“Let’s go.”
Within minutes, they were settled on the bike. He’d fastened his too-big helmet on her head and given her a few basic instructions. She seemed fascinated, excited for this clearly new experience. As he started the bike and she settled behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, he smiled. If new experiences turned her on, he had all kinds he could unleash on his little enigma.
* * *
AS the wind whipped around her, Mystery clung to Axel’s lean waist, actually able to feel the muscles of his abdomen and back as she pressed herself against him and held on for dear life. After thirty seconds, she decided that she needed one of these when she got home. Her father—if he wasn’t on location somewhere—would have a conniption. But wow, the freedom of feeling the air on her skin and the motor beneath her body exhilarated her.
She looked up, her gaze snared by the back of Axel’s thick neck. Maybe she should resist the urge . . . but she didn’t. Instead, she straightened a bit and braced her hands on his waist. It was a reach, but she pressed her lips to his skin. The moment she did, Mystery tasted a mild tang of salt, smelled clean soap blending with his rich, manly scent. Her head swam. Her body tightened.
God, this was going to be the best night of her life.
When she moaned and nipped at his nape, he tensed slightly, but she didn’t get the impression he disliked what she’d done. On the contrary, he shuddered and reached back with one hand to grip her thigh.
She gasped and found Axel glancing at her over his shoulder, his blue eyes penetrating. The look he shot her told her that she was in for something fiery, fast, and irresistible. Mystery flashed hot all over. Finally, she’d know what he felt like as a lover. The years of fantasizing had only left her wanting.
A few turns later, he pulled up to an older house, something faintly art deco that had probably been built in the thirties, given the purity of the big rectangular windows, the flat roof, and the huge trees lining the quiet street. The rest of the elements looked traditional—brick accents and flagstone walkways. The landscape was sparse but healthy. Everything looked meticulously maintained. But that didn’t surprise her. He’d always been methodical and precise.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured as she lifted his helmet away, thanking the heavens it was way too big to pull her wig off.
He took it from her outstretched hand and hung it on the rearview mirror. “Thanks. It’s peaceful. I like it here. Let me put this away.” He reached into a saddlebag attached to the side and pulled out a garage door opener. With a press of a button, the big door raised, and he pushed the gleaming bike into the garage that, aside from a few organized tools, was otherwise empty.
Task completed, he hit the button to close the garage door and jumped over the sensor before returning to her side and taking her hand. “You sure about this?”
“Yes.” Mystery didn’t hesitate.
A smile broke out across his face, the kind of grin that told her that she was in way over her head. She knew all too well that she was—and she didn’t care. Her pulse skittered. Breathing took a backseat to staring at him. He’d never know how long she’d waited for him to do his worst.
“Then come with me.”
He unlocked the front door and opened it for her. She stepped over the threshold, into a gorgeous space with tall ceilings, pale honey floors, and a beautifully restored antique art deco dining room table. Through a big opening that likely wasn’t original to the house, she peeked into the expansive kitchen. Their gray cabinets, white quartz counters, and a whole wall of windows invited her in. She could picture him cooking in here, sipping beer, and relaxing.
“It’s lovely.”
“Thanks.” He led her into the domestic space. “I restored it myself. Drink?”
It seemed a bit odd to be pondering seduction late in the afternoon, as sunlight slanted through the bare windows. She’d pictured nightfall and champagne and elegance. But this was somehow quieter, more intimate. Perfect.
“No, thank you.”
Axel prowled toward her, so big and intent, so male that she instinctively retreated a step. Her belly tightened. Her back met the kitchen counter. He kept coming, and her stare tangled with his. The wry smile he wore revved her heart.
“I might have better wine than the bar.”
She wanted a completely clear head for this, wanted to remember every moment—and not dull her wits or risk blowing her cover. He’d been the first to teach her that booze had a time and a place, but not when one had a purpose. Her goal was to have incredible, orgasmic sex with the man she’d pined after and leave before he figured out exactly who he’d hit the sheets with.
“I’m sure you do, but no, thank you.”
Nodding slowly, he leaned in to brace his hands on the counter, on either side of her body. The last few inches he left between them tortured her. Her ache to erase the distance between them writhed like a physical thing. The years of fantasies about him collided in her head and zoomed down to converge between her legs until she throbbed.
And Axel hadn’t even touched her yet.
“Something to eat?”
Mystery got the distinct impression that he had no intention of cooking for her. He just toyed with her because he knew she wanted him so badly. If he’d figured that out and had no idea who she was, why not be brazen and ask for exactly what she wanted?
“I appreciate the offer, but if you’re taking requests, I’d rather you show me to your bedroom and take off your clothes.” Mystery didn’t demand; she knew better.
He chuckled. “Eager, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Why hide the truth?
He cocked his head and studied her. “I owe you some torment for kissing the back of my neck on my bike. And truthfully, once I get you to my bedroom, I’m going to be all over you and so far inside you, I’m likely to shock your sheltered sensibilities.”
Her entire body jolted at his words. With a sharp gasp, she sucked in her next breath. “I want that.”
“In good time. Let’s . . . make our way to the couch.”
More waiting sounded awful. More waiting would make her go mad.
Mystery surged forward, planting herself against his chest and bracing her hands on his massive shoulders. He didn’t move as she brushed her lips over his and stole a kiss.
At first contact, fire sparked through her body. Another wave of heat zipped through her. She moaned and wrapped her arms around him.
Until she realized that, other than puckering up, Axel wasn’t participating.
Horrified, she leaned back. “I’m sorry. I . . .” Am mortified that I can’t seem to control myself.
She tried to duck out of his embrace, but he kept her caged between his body and the slab of quartz, then eased her back against the counter.
Mystery couldn’t meet his gaze. “Please don’t. I’m embarrassed enough.”
He shook his head. “You shouldn’t be. It’s not that I don’t want you kissing me, so if you’re feeding yourself a ration of insecurity about that, you can stop. You’re new at this whole seduction business, and I’m flattered you chose me.”
God, he had her pegged, and Mystery wanted to crawl into a hole because she could hear the “but” in his speech. She’d heard him give her such a speech before.
“It’s all right. You don’t have to explain. If you’ve decided you’re not interested, I can call a taxi and—”
Axel cut her off by wrapping his beefy hands around her waist and lifting her onto the counter. He used his big body to pry her knees apart and stepped between them. As he wrapped thick arms around her, he yanked her flush against him. “Look at me.”
Hot and cold, bewilderment and need, shock and excitement—everything clashed in her bloodstream. Scarcely daring to breathe, she peeked up at him, lashes fluttering, until she found the gumption to meet his stare head-on. “What?”
“You’re misunderstanding. I just want our first kiss to be something you remember, so scratch that last peck from your memory bank.”
Their first kiss had been unforgettable. Not a day since had gone by that Mystery hadn’t thought of it—and him—with longing. No man had ever made her ache more with his whole body than Axel had with just his mouth.
“Let’s do it right,” he murmured, cupping her face in his big hands.
All too eager to experience him again, Mystery met him halfway as he swooped down and captured her lips in a hard press. Instantly, the jolt of need she’d only ever experienced with him shocked her entire system. Every cell turned electric, glowed, pinging and lighting up. After the initial spark went through her, she threw her arms around him, more than happy to lose herself in the burn of his passion.
He was everything she’d waited to feel for six and a half long, lonely years.
As he pulled back and stared down at her, his big chest rising and falling faster than before, she lost herself in his blue eyes and remembered the first time she’d seen him.
Chapter Two
Six and a half years earlier
SO cold. Mystery huddled into her blinged-out crop jacket and curled into the corner of the run-down shack. Her shoulders ached. She felt as if a furry creature had taken up residence in her mouth.
The wind howled, and she was thankful for the rickety wooden structure around her. As gusty as the weather had become, she worried the little hut—her only shelter—would blow over.
Closing her eyes, she tried to still her throbbing head. As groggy as she was, as much as sleep lured her to blissful oblivion, every time Mystery closed her eyes, she kept remembering the moments she’d walked out of the bar that she’d bribed and blustered her way into. At nineteen, she shouldn’t have been there—and she wished now that she’d gone home, as she’d promised her father. But no. A few of her friends had had luck at this swanky, A-list bar with both booze and hot guys, so she’d decided to be daring and give it a try.
Being the Marshall Mullins’s daughter had gotten her in immediately, no questions asked. No one in Hollywood hadn’t heard of the Oscar-winning actor-director. He was as famous for his epic talent as he was for his romantic exploits over the last two decades.
But the scene in the bar hadn’t been her thing. Loud. Lots of drugs and random hookups and pretty, heartless people. At just before midnight, she’d pleaded a headache and let herself outside, fishing in her purse for her car keys and thinking of things she could tell her father about where she’d been.
Mystery absolutely hadn’t been expecting the burlap hood over her head or the rough hands pulling her into a vehicle, then speeding off into the night.
She hadn’t struggled for long before she’d felt a needle in her arm. When she’d awakened, the hood had been removed. It looked like midmorning. Her purse, car keys, and cell phone were gone. She’d been handcuffed but was blessedly alone. A glance out a grungy window revealed nothing but miles and miles of desert.
It still seemed surreal that she’d been kidnapped. Did someone mean to ransom her? Rape her? Kill her? Mystery had no idea, and the not knowing sent panic skittering through her system. It was one of the few things keeping her awake.
She wished she could open her eyes and find this had been a nightmare, that she’d made different choices, that she could just run to her father’s open arms and that he’d make everything all right again. But none of that was going to happen. She’d have to find her own way out of this mess.
The door to the shack opened, and a man wearing a ski mask and head-to-toe black entered, heading straight for her. She tried to shrink back, scanning the shack for another door. Nothing.
The masked man grabbed her by her arm and hauled her roughly to her feet. Mystery thought of kicking him and running but he was twice her size. Menace rolled off him like a thundercloud. He wore some sort of assault rifle strapped over his shoulder and a hideously large knife from a sheath, attached to his belt . . . right near his hand. She shrank back. Please, God, don’t let him use either on me.
He grabbed the edges of her light jacket and shoved it down her arms.
“Don’t,” she pleaded—and hated herself for doing it. But she’d never been in danger. Hell, she’d hardly ever been out of Beverly Hills. She didn’t want to die here now. She had so much life in front of her.
And after her mother’s high-profile death, if she died violently, it would kill her father.
He didn’t acknowledge her pleading, just whirled her around until she faced the wall. “Hold still.”
A moment later, he reached for her wrists and gripped one tightly.
Mystery stared at the dilapidated wood, her thoughts racing. What was he doing? Waiting for? Did he plan on stabbing her? Strangling her?
A second later, she felt a prick at her wrist, like a needle penetrating her skin, invasive in her vein.
“No!” She couldn’t handle more drugs. Already she felt weak and shaky, vaguely sick to her stomach. Another round of that . . . The thought made her dry heave.
“Shut up!” he commanded. “Hold the fuck still.”
“What are you doing?” She wanted to struggle but didn’t dare, especially with the needle still stuck in her skin. She just wanted to get out alive, see her father again, be a normal teenager. If she could, she’d be so good, never do anything wrong again. “Stop!”
“I told you to shut up. I’m not hurting you, but if you keep flapping your mouth, it will be my pleasure.”
Mystery pressed her lips together tightly. Long, terrible seconds passed as she waited for the drowsy lethargy to overpower her again. Instead, nothing broke the terrible silence except his rough breathing. God, she hoped that holding her captive wasn’t sexually exciting him.
Finally, he withdrew the needle from her vein. He slapped something over the spot, then she heard a clanking sound, a bit like small gears grinding.
Suddenly, her arms were free. Mystery stretched them at her sides, then crossed them in front of her as she whirled to face her attacker. He’d already stepped away and now hovered by the door.
“There’s a bathroom in the next room. I left food and water in the sack on the workbench.” He nodded in the direction of the rickety table shoved against the wall. Sure enough, a paper sack sat there, bulging with what she hoped would be edible. She was starving and no doubt dehydrated. At least it seemed he didn’t mean for her to die right this instant. Later . . . she had no idea.
“The sun will be setting in the next two hours. There are over ten thousand square miles of virtually uninhabited desert all around us. It’s over ninety degrees now. It will be in the thirties tonight. I don’t think you’ll get far in stilettos, a mini dress, and that flimsy jacket. But you’re welcome to try. You might be saving me something messy in the future.”
When he turned for the door, Mystery panicked. “Wait! What do you want? Why am I here?”
He scoffed. “Now you ask, you stupid bitch . . .” He fingered the knife at his belt, silently reminding her that he held the power. “I’m just following orders. Someone wanted you here. I don’t ask questions; I just do jobs. I don’t really give a shit what happens next.”
