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Rhea rolls her eyes and hefts a dramatic sigh. “Fine, but I’m still drinking! I need my buzz back if you seriously expect me to sit through a Christmas movie in July.”
I laugh as I hurry up the stairs to the room I’ve called my own the past few summers since Rhea first brought me here. It has the advantage of being just across the hall from her room, which is a time capsule of her teenage years. It’s perfect since I often get the creeps being alone in such a massive house with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out into the thick woods. I sometimes get the feeling that I’m being watched, but it usually passes when an owl flutters by or when I draw the heavy curtains that allow me to sleep into the late morning.
I kick my shoes off as soon as I’m inside the room, set my purse on the bed, and shimmy out of the too-tight dress, breathing a sigh of relief when I’m free. I let that fall in a pile with my shoes and cross to the dresser, producing an old tee shirt and shorts, deciding I’ll pick that up later. It’s as I’m reaching around to unclasp my bra when I realize I’m not alone.
“I could help with that.” A husky voice, deep and dangerous, breaks through the quiet, stealing the air from my lungs and causing me to freeze for a split second before I jump, throwing my arms in front of me to cover as much of my skin as possible and scanning the room for the source of the offer.
I find it when my eyes fall on a figure in the corner of the room, mostly cloaked in shadow. I wouldn’t even know he was there if he hadn’t spoken. But now that I do, I can see the glint of his eyes, sharp and predatory.
He takes a step closer, allowing the moonlight to pass over his face just enough for me to confirm that I do not know him. He doesn’t have the same build as the shadow figure from the bathroom, and it’s not the man who sent me a drink. That knowledge gives me simultaneous relief and deepening terror. What the hell is going on?
The door to the balcony is open, letting the sultry night air in, and it seems that’s where he came from. Did he scale the balcony to get up here? Did I forget to lock the door?
“Go on,” He teases, gesturing for me to continue where I left off, his eyes gleaming. “You don’t have to stop on my account.” His words are hungry, but his voice? It’s low and deep, sensuous like a blade wrapped in satin.
“Who are you?” I demand, unable to move. The shock has numbed my body, and though I think of running, my limbs can’t even entertain that idea, so I stand there and stare at him.
“You’re not Natasha.” He says with a small frown. “I don’t remember ordering you.” He allows himself a long, languid look up the length of my body and then back down. His gaze sends chills shooting over my skin— both the parts that are exposed and the ones that aren’t. “Were you sent as a gift?”
“A gift?” I swallow, taking a small step back as he takes a smooth one forward, eliminating most of the space between us. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“You may have technically asked that first, but I was thinking it first.” He is close enough now that I can see the danger in his dark eyes, and yet, for some reason, I still can’t command my body to move.
He’s a large man, tall with a slender frame that’s wrapped in muscle… so much muscle. The ripple of his stomach makes my own clench, and the dip of his hips where the elastic of his boxers hangs on his hips is damn-near erotic.
His height eclipsed me even from across the room, but now that he’s drawing nearer, I feel small by comparison. There’s a hint of honey in the color of his skin, and his smoldering gaze threatens to light me on fire, though I’m not sure if that’s with the threat, my embarrassment, or the power that seems to radiate off of him.
“Don’t come any closer!” I warn, putting an arm out to enforce a distance and leaving myself slightly more exposed.
It does nothing to stop him. He steps closer still, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth. It reveals a dimple that looks deceptively soft, given how hard the rest of him is. He knows I am no match for him, and I know it too. I also know I could scream for help, but Rhea would be the first to get here, and what if he attacks the both of us? I don’t have a single doubt that he could do it easily. No, I don’t want to drag my best friend into this sort of situation.
I take another step back, my heart aching with the force of its churning. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He says, showing his hands as if to prove that they’re empty. But he is an admittedly sexy, shirtless man in nothing but silk boxers who broke into my room through the balcony. The fact that he is empty-handed really is no consolation.
I open my mouth and take a breath, my lungs filling with air as I prepare to run screaming. At least half a dozen staff sleep in a house behind the manor. If I yell loud enough to draw them, maybe it will scare him off before he can hurt me.
But he’s fast, closing the distance between us in a matter of seconds so that he’s able to wrap one arm behind my back, trapping it between the both of us, and covering my mouth with his other hand. The intoxicating scent of bourbon and cinnamon fills my nose as I try to focus on taking in air, not him. Despite his aggressive move, he’s not covering my nose, so he’s not trying to kill me… at least, not yet.
His breath is hot on my neck, his lips brushing my ear as he speaks. “You should know that I don’t make it a point of hurting innocents. So, you answer my questions and answer them honestly, and we’ll go from there.” I struggle in vain against him, which only results in him tightening his grip, drawing me further into him. His chest is a solid wall of muscle pressing into my back, and I have no doubt he could hurt me in a dozen different ways in this very moment. But that doesn’t scare me nearly as much as the other thing I feel pressing into my back, growing harder as I jostle against him.
He likes my fear.
The shape of his erection, large and unyielding, causes me to still entirely, going slack against him as his hot breath whispers in my ear. “Understood?”
I nod, unable to speak with his large hand over my face and the cloying scent that seems to cling to him. The man lets his hand fall away from my mouth, landing instead on my hip. I shiver under his touch, my breath going ragged as I’m aware of how intimate this position is. And what’s worse is that I don’t hate it. In fact, I feel everything in me clench in desire as he uses his grip to spin me around and pull me into him so that our bodies press together again, skin on skin. He’s warm and gorgeous and terrifying, and he makes it clear that there is no way I am getting away from him.
Whoever this man is, he’s a lot more prepared to handle me than I am to handle him. “Who are you?”
I swallow, my tongue thick in my mouth. “Claire… Claire Monroe.”
He releases my arm finally, at least a little satisfied with that answer. The tension in my shoulder eases, but the fear in me doesn’t because he still manages to hold me pinned against him. I’m all too aware of the way my chest rises and falls against his, deepened by the fear crashing through me.
His hand moves instead up my arm, sending static running throughout my body. His touch is delicate but firm as he finds the hollow spot between my collarbones and runs a thumb over it, his eyes never leaving mine. He could easily collapse my throat if I try anything, and he’s at least letting me know it as his eyes coax mine into holding his gaze.
“I didn’t ask your name,” he tells me, his words so delicate as they whisper over my mouth that I almost think he’s going to kiss me. “I asked who you are. Try again.” His voice is stern even as he whispers the last two words.
It doesn’t escape me that although I’m barely clothed, I feel more naked under his touch than I did when he’d been able to see everything from a distance. Something about his eyes, as he looks down at me from this proximity, seems to be exploring my soul. It’s almost more intrusive than his touch, prompting chills to race down my spine and erupt again along my exposed arms.
The man doesn’t seem to enjoy waiting for an answer. “I’ve got all night, Claire.” Something about the way he says my name sends another chill through me, this one spiking in my core until I can’t decide if it’s fear or arousal that he sparked. “Do you?”
