Page 3 of Twisted Road

“You call me the most ridiculous names,” she murmured, not protesting his intimacy. “I’m not in the least bit attracted to you. You’re arrogant and self-serving. Sometimes I wonder if you’re human.”

“You are a terrible liar, Lyric.” He poured superior male amusement into his voice. “I know when a woman wants me.”

The lashes fluttered again, and then he was looking into her stunning eyes. Drowning in a sea of emerald green. She did what she always did when he was being outrageous; she looked as if she was fighting laughter. He loved that particular look because she normally didn’t look directly at anyone. He’d discovered it wasn’t just him she avoided looking at—she did that to everyone, particularly men. Still, she always greeted him as if he was special to her. As if he meant something. He’d come to depend on that particular way she had of welcoming him. And her perfect laughter was for him alone.

“I’ll just bet you do. Where are we? And I mean it, get off me…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze shifted from his face to the very close walls of their prison. Her entire body froze, tensed. A shudder went through her.

Keys felt the wave of utter terror emanating from her. Felt it. Her horror was so overwhelming it filled the small space, consuming them both. Something that deep-seated couldn’t be feigned. She wasn’t making a bid for sympathy. She didn’t have a small fear of closed-in places; it was enormous. The fear on her face was all too real.

“We’re in a coffin.” She whispered it, the horror in her voice penetrating.

“Babe, we’re fine. Take a breath.” He had been in tight places many, many times in his life, and he’d never had such a raw, visceral reaction as he did then. It wasn’t his fear, his terror—it was hers, and he felt desperation setting in. She was panic-stricken enough for both of them.

“Just breathe. There isn’t a reason for panic. Air is coming into the box through cracks and drilled holes. We’re fine. Breathe, Wildfire. Take a breath.”

Sweat broke out on her forehead. Dotted her throat. “I can’t.” She choked. Coughed. “I can’t breathe. I can’t.” Her body heaved, trying to buck him off.

There was nowhere for him to go, not even room enough to slide to one side. Still, he tried to get as much of his weight as possible off her slender form. If he tried lifting his body, he struck his head on the lid of the box. His head already hurt like a mother. He eased back down, distributing his weight as evenly as possible.

It didn’t matter; she was gone. Completely lost to him, desperately thrashing, which was nearly impossible when his body pinned hers in the close confines and her arms and hands were trapped under her. She’d lost feeling in them, and that had to add to her terror of the situation. Her eyes were all over the place, and then her mouth opened to scream.

“Don’t you dare,” he hissed. He bent his head to hers, his mouth covering hers in an attempt to swallow her horror. He didn’t know if anyone was riding in the bed of the truck, but he didn’t need their enemies to know they were awake. He also didn’t need the cut to the back of her head bleeding even more. “Stop right now. Look at me. Eyes to mine.” He gave the command with his mouth over hers.

How the hell could she have breath that smelled like clear winter snow and strawberries when she’d been in a fight and was locked in a coffin? Nothing about her made the least bit of sense, including her insane reaction to the situation they were in. She climbed mountains, sometimes with little gear. He knew because he’d been her damned stalker for the three months he’d been undercover and the last two, returning like an idiot, convincing himself he went back to her because she was the best at giving haircuts and he wanted the best.

He sometimes was truthful with himself, and right then, he had to admit, it wasn’t the haircut. It wasn’t even her smoking-hot little body. It was the way, when she saw him coming—no matter where she was, her shop or the bar—she rushed to the door, with a huge smile on her face, and greeted him like the moon rose when he showed up. She didn’t flirt. It was a genuine greeting, as if she’d been waiting for eternity to see him.

It was strange because she never once acted as if she wanted him. In fact, when he flirted, she rolled her eyes. He liked that too.

The moment he issued his command to look at him into her open mouth, she froze beneath him. Despite her stillness, he could feel the tremors and shudders going through her body.

“Eyes on mine. I mean it, Lyric. I want you looking into my eyes.” He feathered his lips over hers. “Do it now.”

She didn’t like looking anyone in the eyes, but over the last five months, she’d gotten over that with him. Sometimes, in the bar, it was still quick, shy glances, but she was learning he liked her looking at him. He knew she wasn’t playing coy, she just preferred to avoid eye contact. In this instance, it was necessary, and he was going to get what he needed from her.

Lyric didn’t respond fast enough, and he locked his teeth on her bottom lip and bit down in warning. He made certain she felt the shocking sting. Instantly, her gaze flew to his. The terror had receded enough to allow shock in. He licked at the bite mark, all the while holding her with his eyes.

“You keep looking at me. Only me.” He used the voice he knew scared the crap out of anyone hearing it. She had never shown fear of him, not once. Not even when everyone else had. Her normal reaction to his shift into badass was secret amusement. He wanted to see that in her eyes. Not this time. Her green eyes skittered all over the place, her breath coming in raw gasps. He wasn’t certain she was fully with him.

Eyes locked to hers, he lowered his head again and took her lower lip between his teeth. Very slowly he began to apply pressure until she gasped, all that green suddenly centering completely on him. He licked at the spot again. His brand. He liked that she wore something of his, and that just proved he was a fuckin’ idiot. He also knew only something shocking could pull her out of her complete panic.

“You back with me?”

Her gaze started to shift toward the lid, and he caught at her lip in warning. Instantly, he had her complete attention.

“Lyric, we’re in a little trouble here. I can get us out, but I need you to help me.” He softened his voice but kept her gaze captive. “We’re not going to draw their attention. They have to think we’re unconscious.”

A shudder went through her body. Plastered as he was on top of her, he felt the earthquake-like tremors. The deep, very real fear. “I can’t breathe. There’s no air.” She whispered it to him like a confession, her pupils so wide they were taking over the color in her eyes.

“There’s plenty of air. Stay with me, Wildfire. You’re tough as nails. Take a breath in and let it out.”

“I can’t.”

She tried to shake her head, but he didn’t allow her to move—or take her eyes from his. He sighed very loudly. “Babe, you’re giving me no choice here. If you can’t get on top of this, you give me no choice but to distract you.”

Her lashes fluttered as if she were trying to decide between screaming in terror or trying to figure out what he meant. He didn’t wait for either reaction.

Keys lowered his head and took her mouth. Feathered his lips over hers. Swallowed her fear and took it deep. Tasted that elusive strawberry-and-fresh-snow scent that he knew he’d always want when he kissed her. Her mouth. Those pouty lips. Hell. He’d been trying to shock her into distraction, and he’d ended up drowning in her.