Page 52 of My Favorite Kidnapper

“One day,” he threatened. “One day, I won’t let that pass.”

I picked up the dishes and stacked them on the tray. “So you keep saying.”

He caught me in the kitchen, pressing against me, his chest to my back. “As soon as you beg, I’ll show you, Little Bee. I’ll take you so good and so hard, you won’t remember your name. And every time you call me old man, I’ll fuck you again. Until you’re screaming my name. And I’ll keep going. I’ll fuck you until one of us passes out from exhaustion.” He bit down on my earlobe, brushing my nipples with his thumbs as he cupped my breasts. “And my stamina is strong, little girl. So strong.” He bent and ghosted his lips over my neck.

I whimpered.

“You keep it up,” he added.

“Isn’t that your job?” I quipped.

“Don’t worry, baby. It’s up every time you’re around. And one day, you’ll tip me over the edge, and I won’t be able to wait.”

He spun me in his arms, our faces so close together our breath mingled. “That time gets shorter every time you mouth off and call me an old man. Revenge is going to be sweet—for both of us.”

He cupped my face and bit my bottom lip, running his tongue over it. Then he stood back, releasing me. I stumbled a little, and he caught me, making sure I was steady before letting me go.

Our eyes locked.

“Soon,” he said. “Very soon.”

* * *

Unable to relax, I dug through the cupboards, finding everything I needed. I had heard Dante climb the steps to the third floor, and I knew he’d be in his office for a while. Gia had shown me how to use the oven, and I turned it on to heat and got busy. I measured and mixed, hoping I recalled the recipe correctly. Roomba came in, wound around my ankles, then headed back outside. She loved being able to roam in and out. She stayed in the area around the pool, wandering to the grass and among the bushes, but seemed content to stay close.

I slid the first tray of cookies in and prepped the second. If they turned out, I could make more, but I wanted to be sure. I had tidied up the kitchen after Dante had stormed away. I shouldn’t tease him, but I did like his reactions when I called him old man. He was anything but old; however, his responses to my words were always intense. I shivered as I recalled his sexual threats tonight. My own reaction had been physical. My underwear grew damp, my nipples hardened, and I ached for something. I just wasn’t sure what that something was, although I was sure Dante would know and happily give it to me.

The timer went off, and I pulled out the tray. My snickerdoodles were golden, smelled delicious, and looked perfect. I slid in the other tray and, after a few moments, transferred the cookies to a plate, humming to keep the silence at bay. I was contemplating carrying them upstairs when I heard Dante’s heavy tread coming toward the kitchen.

“What am I…”

He inhaled again. “Are those cookies?”

I held out the plate. “Yes.”

* * *

DANTE

I couldn’t work, no matter how I tried. None of the messages were important, and the emails weren’t urgent. Even one about a piece I’d been trying to purchase from an estate didn’t hold my interest.

My interest was somewhere in this house, just out of my reach.

Brianna had crawled under my skin and stayed there. She invaded my thoughts, slipped into my dreams, wove her way into every aspect of my world.

And she was downstairs, doing God knew what, in my house. I felt bad that I had stormed away from her, leaving her in a messy kitchen, but I had no choice. If I hadn’t forced myself back, I would have taken her right then. I felt how she reacted to me. The hard tips of her nipples as I cupped her breasts. The way she arched her back to get closer to my touch. The low, needy whimper that escaped her lips as I kissed her neck. I had to get away. Leave her.

But it did no good. I could smell her on my hands. The fragrance from her hair, the scent of her skin, was still in my nose. Her laughter echoed in my head. Her teasing words and the way her eyes danced as she said them. No one spoke to me the way she did. No other woman ever had. She was unique.

I stood, giving up. I would go find her and see what she was doing.

But when I opened my door, another scent hit me. Sweet, heavy with sugar and cinnamon. And I heard humming. I inhaled again, my mouth watering.

My little bee was baking.

I raced down the steps and into the kitchen. “What am I…”

I stopped at the sight of the plate Brianna held. Another sniff and I knew. “Are those cookies?”