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“Or you’ll tie me up?” He asked, moving his body now, as a reminder to her that she was still very much his captive.
A pulse began to hammer between her legs, shattering her sense of concentration. She bit down on her lip to stifle a moan from escaping.
“I’m just lulling you into a false sense of security.”
“Consider me lulled.”
It was obviously not the case. His body was tense, his frame harder than steel. His muscular conditioning was impressive.
“I’m waiting,” she replied, her voice trembling a little as she tried to remember that she was here by invitation and it wasn’t yet entirely clear that he was.
“For someone who’s got her back against the wall, you’re strangely demanding.”
“Is that a problem?”
“It’s interesting,” he supplied instead.
“I’m glad I can amuse you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re not amused?”
“No, little thief, far from it. I’m many things tonight, but amused is not one of them.”
Curiosity shifted inside her. She bit back a desire to ask him what he was feeling. She wasn’t sure she’d know how to handle the answer.
“Would you get off me?” She asked, becoming alarmed by how turned on she was.
“Not until we come to the bottom of this.” His voice was deep and gruff, his accent mysterious. Greek, she gathered, from the string of curses she’d first heard. “How can you prove to me that you’re related to Benji?”
“A stand off?” She asked, pulling at her wrists and almost exploding with sensual heat when his grip only tightened. She had no idea she was so turned on by being dominated.
“Or a lie down,” he responded quickly, so her stomach twisted hard. She ground her teeth and tried to move, only so she could feel his body tightening against hers, grinding her into the ground. Eyes challenging his, she moved, just her pelvis, from side to side, as if issuing a silent, unmistakable challenge. His breath hissed from between his teeth, and she knew he felt every iota of attraction she did.
“Benji’s afraid of clowns.” The words were weakened by her awareness of him. “His mother organized one for his tenth birthday. It jumped—,”
“Out of the kitchen and he freaked out.”
“Actually, he almost wet his pants,” she finished with a small half-smile. “He’s always hated them. I don’t know what my aunt was thinking.”
He was still, and then, as if recognizing that she was telling the truth, he jack-knifed off her abruptly, leaving her instantly cold and bereft, craving the contact of his body all over again.
The thought, her weakness, was enough to have her pushing to sit, and then moving to stand. Only she pressed her weight into her damaged ankle and cried out sharply as fresh pain radiated through the small space.
“Damn it!” Tears filled her eyes.
“You’re hurt.”
“Not by you,” she responded, staring down at her ankle with a sense of betrayal. “Though that’s better luck than management.”
“Hey, you’re the one who was armed with—what the hell was that, anyway?”
She was glad the lights were out and that he wouldn’t see her full sheepish expression. “The first thing I could find.”
“Which was?” He asked, lifting his fingers to the side of his head and rubbing, his silhouette powerful in the dark, so she longed to see more of him, to see all of him.
“A rolling pin.”
