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My pulse quickens. I have the sensation I would feel just before getting scolded by a teacher.
“I know,” I acknowledge, trying to but not succeeding in sounding nonchalant.
“What were you planning to do back in the theater?”
I gulp. I had forgotten about the promise. What had he said were the consequences?
“I was, um, just going to introduce myself,” I answer, “and, um, ask if the women’s orgasms were real.”
Was that a stupid answer? I know I’m grasping at straws here, but my ability to think got cut short when Rafe closes the distance between us. I’m sandwiched between him and a set of doors. Again.
“You don’t think their orgasms were real?” he asks.
I stare at how close his mouth is to mine. “It’s just—it’s hard to imagine when it must hurt, the stuff the men were doing to them.”
He gazes intently without saying anything.
“What?” I prompt when I can’t take the silence anymore.
Planting his hands on either side of me—now I’m really boxed in—he lowers his head and replies, “I think you should see for yourself.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
My pulse is all overthe place. I can feel the heat from his body as he hovers over me. He’s going to kiss me, I think.
But he doesn’t. At least not yet. Instead, he cups the side of my face and runs his thumb beneath my lower lip. His hand gently drops lower, grazing my collarbone. Everywhere he touches, his gaze caresses too. Down his hand travels till he’s on my breast.
My breath stalls. My nipple pebbles beneath his palm. I should have worn a bra. I feel the tug of the fabric on my nipple as his hand slowly moves toward the hem of my shirt. Slipping his hand under the garment, he feels me up, his hand warm on my breast. My nipple hardens even more for him.
Taking it between his thumb and forefinger, he tugs. I gasp. His hand slides around to my back. He presses me closer to him. His gaze takes in my every reaction. His mouth is tantalizingly close. Now he’s going to kiss me.
Or not.
Which is probably a good thing, because I really should put a stop to all this. It can’t be good for me to get involved with my captor. It’s just physical at this point, but still.
Only, my body doesn’t want this to stop. It likes the way his hand feels on me, likes his nearness, likes the simmer of arousal and excitement.
