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“Little bit.” Warm hands cup my face, and it’s Dutch’s voice, gentle and soothing. Relief fills me knowing he’s here, and I don’t want to think about how I tried to get away from him in the beginning. “You’re crying.” He wipes away the tear that escaped. “Damn it, Iris, open your eyes.”
His tone changes as he issues the command. It's gruff and demanding, and the need to please him has my eyes doing exactly what he says. There’s also a tingle between my thighs at the sound of his order. How the heck can his voice do that to me?
“Thank fuck,” he says with relief as he leans down and presses his mouth hard against mine. “You scared the shit out of me, little bit.”
I can see the fear in his eyes, and I hate that it’s there. Reaching up, I brush my fingers along his jaw, needing that connection more than I realized. The rough stubble against my fingers feels nice and reminds me that he’s here and he’s real. He hadn’t let anyone take me from him, and the safety in that warms me from the inside out.
“You saved me.” It’s not a question, because looking at him now, there’s no doubt he was my hero.
“Always.” He kisses me again, and this time I don’t want him to take his mouth off of me. My heart starts to pound for a whole other reason as I cling to him.
He pushes his tongue past my lips, claiming this kiss for himself. This one is different from all the others. He’s still got his hands on my face in a gentle hold, and although it’s sweet, I swear he’s trying to remind both of us that I still belong to him.
“Dutch.” I breathe his name.
“I’m right here, little bit, and I’m not going anywhere.” I realize I’m lying on a sofa at the safe house as Dutch picks me up. He sets me on a table nearby and turns on a light. I glance around the room that looks like it’s stuck in the 1980s.
“Where am I?”
“With me.” He smirks, making me snort a laugh. “Fuck, I love that sound.”
He drops his forehead to mine, and I feel a need to soothe him. I run my hands up and down his back. I want to do all I can to reassure him that I’m okay. Well, at least physically I am.
“What the heck happened?”
He lets out a sigh before stepping back and running his hand through his short hair. I think he’s debating what he should tell me. Maybe he doesn't trust me, but can I really blame him?
“Somehow they caught up with us,” he answers after a beat.
“When the man grabbed me, he said my father sent him.”
Dutch’s eyes narrows as he considers this. “Did you try and go with him?” His jaw goes tight.
“If I was going with him, why would he have drugged me? I was trying to get him to stop so we could all talk about this. It’s getting way out of hand.” My response makes him relax some but not by much. He’s on edge, and I can sense it like I’m attuned to him in some way.
He folds his arms over his chest and spells it out for me. “Your fake father tried to drug you.” I know he’s not saying this to hurt me, but the fact that this happened at all is super messed up.
“I guess. I mean, I was fighting the guy. He might have told him to do what he had to do to get me back.” I try to plead my father’s case, but I feel like I’m lying to myself. The only reason I’m defending him is to make myself feel better.
“You don’t send a man to drug your hot-as-fuck daughter so she has no idea what the hell might be happening to her.” Somehow his words both scare the crap at out me and make me giddy that he thinks I’m hot as fuck.
“You’re right.” I drop my head, unsure what I believe anymore. “Dutch, is everything you’re telling me true? Have you ever lied to me?” Two of his fingers come to my chin so he can lift my head to meet his eyes.
“I’ve never lied to you, and I never will.”
“I believe you. Which is crazy because you kidnapped me.”
“You trust me because your mind is putting things together. You’re following your gut.”
“And because I feel safe with you.” The words slip out, and I see a small smile tug at his lips. It makes me dream of getting a real smile from him one day.
“You’re safe with me, little bit. I still need to figure out what the hell is going on, but you’ll be protected.”
“What? Did something change?” I ask.
“Something feels off,” he says as I rest my hands on his hard chest. Touching him makes me feel more grounded and like my life isn’t so out of control.
