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He ran the back of his fingers along my cheek. "You don’t believe I find you sexy?"
I kept my eyes closed and refused to answer. I could only imagine how, inside his head, behind those cold eyes, he mocked me, mentally laughing at my body with its too generous curves. Every past lover had complimented me just long enough to do their sexual bidding then left me unsatisfied.
Dean would leave me dead.
Nosing the hair along my ear, he responded with a low chuckle. "Baby, convincing you otherwise will be my pleasure."
His hand dipped under my blouse, traveled up my skin to the bottom edge of my bra. "I bet it’s black. With matching panties, right?"
My spine stiffened at his accuracy and he laughed.
"You take time with your clothes and hair like you're putting on armor."
Correct again. My shoulder twitched, earning a softer laugh from Dean.
His hand traveled a little higher up the underside of my blouse, his fingers brushing against the center of the bra's front panel. A little groan and he cupped my breast again, his lips hot against my throat. "Lacy with a front clasp, so very naughty, baby."
Across from us, Condor watched with a smirk. "Fuck, I think she likes it."
"No." Dean tucked my hair over one shoulder, giving him better access to my neck. He kissed me slowly, a fresh tremor running through me at the renewed contact. "She hates it. Hates me. Isn’t that true, baby?"
"Yes," I spat out.
Another goddamn chuckle and then he unhooked the bra.
"Please…" I closed my eyes, more horrified by the fact that Condor was watching than by the sensation of Dean's hands on me. I had never been so sexually aroused in my life.
Condor descended into laughter, mockingly calling out "please, please!"
Dean palmed my breast. With his lips and tongue searing my flesh, he moved from my ear to the starting curve of my shoulder as his hand squeezed then massaged then pinched, his rhythm matching his breathing.
"How can I train you if I can’t touch you, baby?"
"I don’t want to be trained," I whispered. I shook violently, unsure how much of my reaction was revulsion and how much arousal. His breathing, the strokes, the little bit of pain followed by the soothing brush of his fingers—all of it combined to drench my pussy.
"You do if you want to live."
His matter-of-fact tone triggered a momentary breakdown. I started to cry, little hiccoughs punctuating my tears. Releasing my breast, Dean turned me until I was cradled in his arms and looking up at him. His thumb caressed my cheek and, for the briefest of seconds, I saw something other than a cold blooded killer in his gaze.
He blinked and it was gone, but the effect lingered in my mind. When he bent his head to kiss me, I didn’t turn away. My lips parted. My breast rose to meet his hand as he slipped it back under my blouse.
When his fingers found the nipple once more and rolled it ever so gently, I moaned. His tongue penetrated my mouth, softly sweeping along the inside of my front teeth. His hot breath fueled my own humid pants, as if he were breathing for me. I moaned again and he pinched a little harder.
The van's engine shut down. A metal garage door screeched behind us. Reality closed back in and tightened around my throat like an iron fist. We had stopped. I was isolated, in a private residence where I would be shuttled from the garage to the interior without a chance of being seen or knowing where I was. I tried to scramble away from him, my bound wrists stealing any leverage and making me clumsy.
He wound his fingers through my hair. Holding my head still, he gazed into my eyes. Again, I saw that nameless something that was neither light, nor shadow. "You remember what I told you about running?"
I nodded. Not the least bit threatening, his voice sounded fiercely protective. A wave of calm washed over me, but I knew its undertow was deadly.
CHAPTER 3
GARNET
Dean drew a black hood over my head then carefully helped me from the van. When he placed his hand atop my head to guard against my bumping it on the vehicle's frame, I was reminded of every episode of Cops I had ever watched.
I stopped, an impossible idea clicking inside my head.
A hand squeezed mine, the gesture comforting.
