Page 72 of Capture Me


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I chewed my lip thoughtfully. “Not unless we’re there, too.”

Colton stared at me. “Hell no! I’m not sneaking into some rich guy’s party in a tux! That’s your department! You sneak, I hit people!”

“Can’t do it on my own. Easier to follow someone with two. Plus, if I’m on my own in a cocktail dress, every male guest will be trying to hit on me.” I was joking about the last part, but I saw Colton’s eyes flare with possessive rage and that made warmth unexpectedly flood my chest and sink down to my groin. I quickly looked away.

“Have you forgotten that Steward is searching the entire fucking country for us?” asked Colton. “He’ll recognize you. He’ll recognize me!”

I’d gotten myself under control, now, and I turned back to him. “Colton, by the time I’m finished with you, your own mother wouldn’t recognize you.”

The rest of the morning was busy.

We needed a base, so we checked into a hotel, paying cash. Then we hit a shopping mall, first for some actual clothes for me, then for a cocktail dress, a tuxedo, fresh burner phones, make up, a hair trimmer, shaving cream, a razor, ammunition and a few other essentials. Back at the hotel, I had a long, hot shower, then wrapped myself in a towel. I passed Colton the bag of shaving supplies. He ran his hand mournfully through his beard and threw me puppy-dog eyes.

“Sorry,” I told him. “You have to.”

He grumbled and went into the bathroom, closing the door. I heard him showering, then the electric hair trimmer started to buzz.

I was laying out my makeup when the door opened again. I looked up and—

Wow.

The curse had been lifted: my gorgeous beast had turned into a gorgeous prince.

Without the beard he looked younger, gentler, and less intimidating. His full lower lip was more exposed, now, and it pouted like a rock star’s. My eyes kept being drawn to it, and to the exposed skin on his cheeks and throat. What would it be like to be kissed by him, now?

He ran a hand over his cheek. “Feels weird. How’d I look?”

“You look good,” I told him.

His mouth opened as if he was going to return the compliment, but then his eyes narrowed with lust and his gaze dropped, sliding slowly up my bare legs to where the towel finished, only a few inches below my groin, then flicking up to trace the curves of my damp cleavage before finally finding my face. His eyes said what his voice couldn’t, and I felt myself flush.

“We should get dressed,” I said, my voice strained.

He nodded. We looked at each other, both of us naked except for our towels. We were alone, in a hotel room, and for the first time in what felt like days, we weren’t in danger. I felt the mood shift.

If I stripped off in front of him, I knew what would happen. And I wanted it, so bad it was an ache. But if we had sex again and then I pushed him away again, it was going to hurt him even more. I couldn’t do that.

But what was I going to do? He’d seen me naked already, not to mention pinned me down on the bed, spread me and fucked me. I couldn’t pretend to be a shy virgin now and run off to the bathroom to change.

I slowly turned my back to him. There, I told myself. This will be fine.

Then I heard the soft thump of his towel hitting the ground and, suddenly, it was like all my other senses had been dialed up to eleven. I was hyper-aware of his breathing, of the faint scent of him in the air, of the steam that wound around us like mist, bathing our bodies. I could visualize every naked inch of him, could see the water droplets beaded on the warm, caramel slabs of his pecs.

I hadn’t heard him turn around, so I knew he was still looking right at me.

I loosened the towel and let it drop to the floor. The room was utterly silent, as if he was holding his breath. And I felt myself go lightheaded and spacey, as if I was holding my breath, too. I looked down at the floor and saw our shadows, thrown by the sunlight coming through the window to our left. We were like two characters in a shadow play, my silhouette soft and feminine, my breasts jutting out in front of me, his huge and muscled, a beast waiting to pounce. As I watched, the shadow of his cock slowly rose and lengthened until it was pointing straight towards me.

I looked around for the panties I’d bought and saw them on the floor. There was no way to grab them without…

I bent over, feeling almost drunk. I heard his intake of breath, felt his eyes climbing all the way up my legs to my pussy. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, my whole body vibrating with each beat of my heart. I had to really focus to hook each foot into my panties and then slide them up my legs, very aware that they were a thong, and really didn’t cover much at all.

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