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She held the knife close to her chest. “Who is it?”
His head tipped in her direction. But he didn’t answer.
“I asked, who is it?” she repeated louder, lifting the knife higher.
The man moved toward her. Her heartbeat doubled. Shit! Shit! She backed a step and another, but he kept coming. Just when he was within an inch of her, she leapt forward and pushed him against the breakfast bar, holding the knife to his throat.
“I’m one second away from slicing your throat,” she said, her voice sounding calm even though she was shaking on the inside. “Who the fuck are you? And why the hell are you sneaking into my house like this?”
His chest rose, and he laughed. She blinked. Anger worked its way into her veins at his absolute nonchalance, fuelling her determination.
“Are you out of your mind?” She dug the tip of her knife into the side of his throat. “I have a knife pointed at your throat and you’re laughing.”
“Princess, you’re the one out of your mind if you think you’ll be able to hurt me.”
His voice, husky and deep, slithered down her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She shook herself out of that absurd reaction.
The lights came on. She blinked against the sudden light, and his face came into focus. She took in his sharp jawline, high cheekbones, full lips set in a straight line, his slightly crooked nose, and his eyes…they were a warm amber. Beautiful. Right now, those magnificent eyes were studying her with a hint of amusement. His hair was short, the strands stylishly held back. Something woody and spicy hit her nose. His scent. Fuck. She suddenly realized how close she was to him.
Her one hand was sprawled on his chest, while her entire body leaned against his, pressing him into the breakfast counter. Heat, intense and powerful, spread through her. The knife in her hand shook. A bead of crimson formed on the side of his throat. And then another and another, until a line of blood dripped down his neck, the red wetting the collar of his black shirt. She gasped. She’d actually cut him. Oh God.
She was so stunned at what she’d done that she didn’t realize that the man had captured her hand in his. He shifted, and suddenly,shewas being held against the counter whilehetowered over her. Fear kicked in, along with the desperate need to survive and come out of this encounter intact. She didn’t know who he was and she was all alone with him. He held her hand, the one that was holding the knife, in a tight but painless grip. She punched his chest with her free hand, but it was like hitting a rock wall. He twisted her other hand, and the knife clattered to the floor. In one single swoop, he captured both her hands and pinned them to her back. Absolute control reigned on his face and in his movements. He had restrained her so easily, and she couldn’t do anything about it. So much for self-defence.
It struck her that the only reason she’d managed to holdhimcaptive for a few seconds was because he’dlether. The thought irritated her further, driving away the fear lurking in her mind. Her knee rose to his groin, but he shifted, tightening his hold on her.
“Now, now, Princess, you’ve already proven to be dangerous with a knife in hand. I can’t have you injuring me any further.”
Anger pumped her blood. “What the fuck do you want?”
“To be honest, nothing.”
“Says every thief who gets caught,” she snarled, trying to shrug out of his hold, but it was of no use. His hold was unbreakable.
A corner of lips tipped. “Do I look like a thief, Princess?”
She ran her gaze down him, noticing for the first time the smart cut of his black suit, the bright red pocket square, and the shiny, polished shoes. Was he a reporter seeking a scoop? No, he was too well-dressed for that. Was he a guest? Good God. Was he invited? But that didn’t make sense either.
She studied him. “If you’re not a thief, then why enter through the backdoor of my house?”
“Because I can.”
She looked at him in disbelief. Bloody, arrogant man.
“I should have stabbed you when I had the chance,” she spat out. “Fucking asshole.”
“So volatile. So sexy.” He shifted both her hands in one of his and stared at her. His free hand caressed her cheek. A shudder ran through her. He saw it.
“Interesting and so very unexpected,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I really am a guest here, Princess.”
“And yet I caught you sneaking inside.”
More amusement lit his eyes. She studied the man in front of her. Really studied him. Fuck. He was magnificent. Power and authority leaked out of him. He was most definitely a guest, and yet she couldn’t understand his need to enter like he had.
Nonetheless, he was holding her captive, and she still didn’t know his identity. The closer he moved to her, the more her stomach tumbled and her thoughts jumbled. She had to get far away from him.
The main rule of self-defence was that if nothing worked, then scream. Loudly. She opened her mouth, but he clamped a hand on her lips.
“Your screaming will only draw attention to me, and that’s the last thing I want. I’ve already wasted enough time on you.” His face came closer. “The problem is I’ve rather enjoyed this encounter…a lot.” His hands tightened around hers. “I like having you in my control like this.”
