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Chapter Five
A different kind of fear set into her bones, and as with everything about Declan Foster, she felt as if she were losing a major battle from which she wasn’t going to recover.
“Peyton, I’m an assassin; breaking into people’s houses kind of goes with the territory of my occupation. So does breaking into cars.”
Peyton sucked in a breath and then bit her lip before speaking.
“You broke into my parents’ house?” She was normally smarter than what she was portraying. But something about this man rattled her and seemed to make her stupid.
"Technically, I only broke into your bedroom.”
She was a neat freak, which meant that as soon as she arrived at her parents’ house, she’d emptied her bags and packed her stuff into one side of the closet in the childhood bedroom her mother still kept for her.
She used Peyton’s other closets to keep the rest of her clothes, and even that wasn’t enough for her shopaholic mother.
Peyton turned an agonizing red. He would have had to open the closet doors to find her clothes. He’d had to open the drawers and pack her underwear… numerous pairs of skimpy lace and satin underwear she had bought on a whim because it was the holidays.
And maybe because of Eric Jacobs.
The guy she had dated six years ago and who had come back into her life just a month ago with an ultimatum.
“Why me?” She crossed her arms over her chest, and this time she wanted a straight answer.
He could have handed himself over to any of the thirty-five thousand people who worked for the FBI. He hadn’t. He had sought her out in particular. He knew where her parents lived. She was certain he knew Ellie’s full name despite pretending not to. Why did he come to her when she didn’t know him at all?
Surely, he knew she was no match for him. He could escape right that minute if he wanted to, and because of her lack of experience and skill, it would be impossible to keep him completely detained.
But there he sat, handcuffed to a table in a kink resort, weathering out a snowstorm, comfortable as fuck. The man was humoring her, and she wanted to ball her fists and scream out in frustration.
Why me?
She hadn’t given her emotions this much of a rollercoaster ride since forever. Her psyche wasn’t accustomed to handling it, considering she preferred to keep her feelings tepid and uneventful.
That wasn’t the case anymore. The tenuous grasp on her spiraling control weakened with every breath she took in Declan Foster’s company.
She needed to know what he wanted from her, and she wasn’t taking any crap answers from him anymore.
“What do you want from me, Foster?” She could hear the fatigue in her voice, which was tinged with layers of pure frustration.
“Everything, Peyton.” He lowered his head and watched his hand flex before he raised his gaze back onto her, and then, with all the arrogance in the world, he continued, “I’m going to make you my wife, Peyton Adams. I’m going to seed you until you're pregnant with my child, and then I’m going to do it again and again.”
Nothing could have startled or surprised her more than his words in a hundred lifetimes. Had it been anyone else saying those words to her, she would have fallen over laughing, but Declan elicited nothing more than a squeak from her. She couldn’t deny the finality of his promise. Or the tightening of her womb.
“What?” She asked hoarsely.
“You heard me, Peyton. You’re mine. Every part of your body belongs to me. And yes, I’m going to marry you.” His voice dropped. The rough, husky lilt of his tone draped over her and ignited a flood of familiar desire to course through her.
Her nipples hardened, so she pressed her arms down more angrily against her chest. Her panties dampened further. Her clit seemed to ache now. She was losing her head and her body.
It took her several moments too long to come to her senses, and in that time, she had given herself away. She had put herself at a disadvantage. Now, she frantically tried to control the situation.
She straightened her shoulders but relaxed her stance. Whichever way she answered, she had to indicate he didn’t have a hold on her.
She had to be neutral.
Firm.
Indifferent.
