Into Temptation

by Pam Godwin

  But not this one.

  John confounded her at every turn. Even now, as he veered off the cobblestone trail and sprinted across the lawn, she couldn’t guess what he was doing.

  The grass was cut short, but a few minutes into the detour, the ground became uneven, the terrain unused and unkempt. When her pace slowed, he shot an aggressive look over his shoulder.

  If only he would trip and impale himself on something sharp.

  “There are dozens of running trails.” She panted, pumping her legs twice as hard to keep up with his long gait. “Do you know where you’re going?”

  A grunt was all he gave her.

  Nasty redheaded gorilla.

  As he and Tomas led her farther away from the outdoor luxuries of the estate, she remained a few clips behind them, growing suspicious.

  She knew every corner of this property, every building, pathway, camera, and blade of grass. A two-mile, unclimbable stone wall enclosed the compound, every inch of it monitored either by technology or armed guards.

  Except one section. One shaded, overlooked nook. And there, behind a maze of cobwebs and dead trees was a way out.

  Yesterday, she was caught far away from that area, thank God. She’d attacked a guard near a different section of the wall in an attempt to knock him out and take his clothes, weapons, and earpiece before making her escape. Unfortunately, she hadn’t counted on the second guard who had sneaked up behind her.

  Up ahead, Tomas angled closer to John and said something too low for her ears. Then he gave a subtle nod to the left, spoke again, and jogged off.

  The camera. There was only one in this area, hidden in a tree, and he’d just pointed it out.

  So this was a scouting expedition disguised as a run?

  John made his way to a small grove beyond the range of that camera. The property spanned multiple acres, and he plopped down in one of the few places that wasn’t monitored by the cartel.

  Her heart hammered against her ribs. Was he a spy? Some kind of operative in the military? Whatever it was, she didn’t want any part of it.

  “Come here.” He met her gaze from across the field, his tone brooking no argument.

  Tomas was nowhere in sight. Not that he would come to her defense, but she didn’t want to be alone with this man.

  He didn’t repeat himself and didn’t need to. His look spoke louder than words.

  Seconds ticked by. The stare-off extended past stubborn and dipped into dangerous territory. If she didn’t obey him, he would physically force her, and she would lose. Again.

  Shoving her feet forward, she trudged toward him and paused a few paces away. “What?”

  “Sit with me.”

  “No.”

  He lunged, and though she was ready for it, he pounced lower than she expected. She didn’t see his leg shoot out until it collided with her ankles, knocking her on her ass. With a yelp, she scrabbled away only to be overpowered once again by his sheer size and strength.

  Lying on her back in the overgrown grass, she gazed up at him and didn’t move. Wriggling beneath his weight would only turn him on, and she still felt the tenderness of the last violation.

  Maybe he would hurt her anyway, but his demeanor didn’t suggest cruel intentions. He held the back of her head in a firm palm and drank in her features, the brilliant green of his eyes making an unhurried exploration.

  Leaning closer, he slid a thumb along her jaw, nudged it down, and forced her lips open. She gulped, and he pressed closer, breathing in her gasp. The way he stared so deeply into her eyes, he looked like he wanted to kiss her, like he wanted to peel her open and climb inside.

  “Do you know why I chose you?” The question rumbled from deep in his chest.

  “I was the only woman still alive in the room?”

  “Alive.” He licked his lips, tasting the word. “Exactly. You’re so alive you glow with fire. Not only when you fight, but when you watch and listen.”

  “I’m a side-effect of men’s cruelty.” She didn’t appreciate him analyzing her as if he knew her. “What do you want?”

  “Only to talk.”

  “Talk?” She narrowed her eyes. “Like we did in your room this morning?”

  “Since there are no cameras here, we can interact like normal people.” He rolled off her and pulled her to her side to face him. “Tell me something. Anything.”

  “What do you mean?” She was still stuck on the camera comment. “Did you fucking rape me because you knew they were watching?”

  With a sigh, he stretched out on his back and bent an arm behind his head. “Tell me something about yourself. Or about the world. Pick a topic.”

  “What’s your interest in the cameras?”

  “Another topic.”

  “Fine. When you’re not raping women, what do you do for a living?”

  “I invest in something important. Next topic.”

  “Is your job legal? Do you work for the government?”

  “No to both of those questions, and that’s the last answer you’ll get from me on that.”

  “How many innocent lives have you taken?”

  He remained silent.

  Disappointment pinched in her chest.

  So he was a criminal, which revealed nothing. Every man who walked through here lived on the wrong side of the law. He could be an assassin or an enemy spy. Or maybe he was just another well-funded, paranoid asshole, looking for a new sex slave.

  “I’m giving you the chance to speak freely about anything you want.” He gazed up at the tree canopy, his handsome face speckled in drops of sunlight. “If you don’t pick a topic, I will, and it’ll involve you telling me who you are and how you came here. You’ll fight me, and we both know how that will end.”

  He looked at her, and she turned away, feeling extra stabby. She wanted to claw his eyes out.

  “You have every right to despise me,” he said. “When it comes to taking what I want from you, I’m no different than Hector’s sons. But have they ever taken the time to have a conversation with you? Do they know you at all?”

  No. Not even a little. They came, and they went. Wham-bam-fuck-you-ma’am. Omar kept her around as long as she won fights. Alejandro was possessive, but he was like that with all his women. The other two didn’t even look at her after they fucked her.

  That went both ways. She wanted nothing to do with them. But she did miss the simple act of sharing a conversation with someone. She had no one to talk to here. No one who gave a shit what she thought.

  She shifted to her back, mirroring his position beside her. Despite the shade from the trees, the air felt unusually hot for autumn, clinging to her skin and making her sweat. Damn global warming.

  “Greenland has melted beyond saving.” She threw the random thought into the humid breeze.

  “Ah.” He caught it with a smile in his voice. “The tipping point debate.”

  “If you look at the science, there’s no debate. The ice sheet has lost so much mass over the last two decades that even if global warming ended yesterday, the arctic island won’t recover.”

  He turned slowly, stretching and shaping his body around hers without touching. “What are we going to do about it?”

  “We, the human race? Nothing. There isn’t enough intelligence or concern on this planet to fix it. Future generations will have to use advancements in technology to adapt to the changing environment.”

  “How?”

  “They’ll modify their DNA. It’s the only way they’ll be able to inhabit a world our species isn’t designed for.”

  “Designed? You believe in a higher power? Intelligent design?”

  Oh, she had plenty of opinions on that. Her mouth ran away from her, and for the next few minutes, she stood on a soapbox and outlined everything she speculated on the subject. By the time she realized she was rambling, she couldn’t take it back. She’d engaged him in a conversation, doing precisely what he wanted.

  The thing was… He listened. Actually kept hi
s arguments to himself so that he could hear hers. Was this some kind of ploy to engineer personal information from her?

  Except she hadn’t revealed anything confidential. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say.

  Was she being naive?

  Lifting on an elbow, he regarded her intently. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

  Without access to a phone, Internet, or friends, all she had was time to sit around and think about shit.

  She met his eyes, breaths defensively taut. “You want to argue my points? Bring it on.”

  “Nope. I’m not an expert on climate change or God.”

  “Then where is your expertise? What do you know?”

  “I can offer some factoids on testosterone.” He bent his head toward hers, making her heart skip. “I’ve read a lot on the subject.”

  She didn’t like where this was headed. Anything related to men and their bodies was dangerous territory. But she sucked it up and gave him her ear.

  “A man’s testosterone peaks at puberty.” He brushed a wayward lock of hair from her face. “It declines immediately after then plateaus as he ages. Unless he gains weight. Fat pushes testosterone levels into a downward spiral. But you know what doesn’t?”

  “No.” She didn’t want to know. Not with that heated look in his eyes.

  “Sex. Studies have shown that a man’s testosterone increases the morning after intimacy. More so in unmated males, those who are actively hunting. Their testosterone boosts exponentially—we’re talking upwards of three-hundred-percent—the morning after sexual activity. Interestingly, masturbation doesn’t yield the same results, which suggests there’s a socio element to hormone production.”

  Fascinating. Also, disturbing. Especially with him angled so close to her.

  He engaged in sex last night. Not intercourse, but oral sex. Did it count if he didn’t come? Was his testosterone in the red zone when he woke?

  “Is that why you raped me this morning?”

  “Despite what you think, I’m in full control of my baser needs. Case in point…” He dipped his head, hovering his face an inch from her heaving chest. “I want to cover these raised nipples with my tongue and tease them into hard peaks through the shirt. When the fabric becomes too damp and itchy, I want to strip it away and feel you against my lips—your soft skin, the pounding of your heart, the vibration of your moans. What would you do…?” He paused. Breathed in. On an exhale, his voice shifted from seductive to pensive. “For a…?

  Uncertain, she flattened her back against the ground and curled her fingers in the grass. “For what?”

  “For a Klondike bar?”

  She stared up at him and blinked. “Sorry?”

  “It’s a square of ice cream with chocolate—”

  “I know what it is.” She gritted her teeth. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Depends on your answer.”

  “God, you’re so…” Unpredictable. Gorgeous. Perplexing. She sniffed, trying to hold onto her annoyance. “Strange.”

  “What would you do for one? Would you lick that tree?” He nodded at the barky, moss-covered trunk a few feet away.

  “I don’t know. Maybe?” She couldn’t remember the last time she tasted ice cream.

  “Would you finish our jog without clothes on?”

  “No.” Not willingly.

  “Would you sing?”

  “That would be awful for everyone.” She made a face. “But I can rap.”

  “Right now.”

  “What?” She sat up, forcing him to lean back.

  “Rap me a song, and I’ll get you a Klondike. Hell, I’ll get you a whole box.”

  “Three.”

  “Three boxes?”

  “The variety packs. All different flavors.”

  He rolled his lips to hide a smile. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Do we have a deal?”

  “Absolutely.”

  This rich boy wouldn’t know a good rap song if it smacked him in his white ass. So she opted for something satirical with a little cheese and a lot of groove.

  Closing her eyes, she loosened her shoulders, rocked her head, and hummed the opening rhythm of “Welcome to Chili’s” by Yung Gravy.

  Only the intro was in Spanish, which she sang embarrassingly off-tune. But when she jumped into the rap, she was fire, popping the P’s, rolling the R’s, and hitting every word with a kick in her hips.

  After a few lines, she leaped to her feet, catching the beat with her whole body. He rose in her periphery, and she turned away, focusing on the lyrics.

  Until his masculine heat covered her back. Bold hands glided over her shoulders, down her arms, moving with her. He moved with her.

  She shivered and rapped out the next verse. By the time she reached the chorus, his voice was in her ear, saying the words with her, nailing the beat perfectly.

  Holy shit, he knew this song? Why was she surprised? It was popular in America. But still…

  She turned, facing him without losing the tempo. But she was no longer dancing, her body restrained in the intensity of his stare. He faltered over some of the words but knew the rest. They didn’t bounce or sway, didn’t blink or break eye contact for a single second.

  The moment held them in a peculiar other world where a woman and her rapist rapped in a trance.

  When had he drifted closer? Was she leaning into him? No, they weren’t touching. But she felt him all over, against her skin, in her song, humming through her blood.

  When had they stopped singing?

  The canopy rustled above them. She couldn’t think.

  A locust buzzed in the grass. She couldn’t look away.

  His fingers floated through her hair. She couldn’t breathe.

  He touched her face, the bruised skin around her eyes, her cheek, her lips.

  Push him away.

  Her hands landed on his bare chest. Solid bedrock encased in hot skin. Beautifully built. Flawless definition. Carved and sanded with divine precision.

  His palm cupped her jaw. So gentle. So goddamn nice.

  Get rid of him.

  Her head tipped, slanting into the touch as if compelled by a magnet.

  Jesus, his eyes were right there, shining vividly. His mouth slightly parted and waiting.

  This was too heavy. Too cozy. This… Feeling? It was gravity. Chemistry. Deranged attraction. Why couldn’t she fight it?

  “Baby,” he murmured against her mouth. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  Dazed, she couldn’t feel her tongue. “Mm?

  “There’s a snake behind you.”

  “No, he’s…” Her chest filled with air. “He’s in front of me.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “What kind of snake?”

  “Black and white with red rings. Three feet long.”

  “Oh. That’s a king—” Her feet left the ground as he swung her up and away. “Wait!”

  He spun toward the creature, crouching to attack it as she yelled, “It’s a kingsnake! Nonvenomous! Don’t kill it!”

  “What?” He lunged, catching the squirming body. “I want to help it. Look.”

  She darted toward him, craning her neck, and gasped.

  The poor thing was tangled in a piece of plastic netting, with the webbing cinching it so tightly it couldn’t move properly.

  “Here.” He trapped it against the ground, controlling the whip of its head. “Hold the tail.”

  She didn’t hesitate, and within seconds he managed to break the plastic enough for the snake to work itself free.

  He pocketed the trash and watched the animal slither away while she watched him, baffled and conflicted.

  “Why did you do that?” Her mind churned to reconcile everything she knew about men with the one standing before her. “What are you trying to prove? That you’re not cruel? That you’re different from the others?”

  His gaze cut to her, his eyes blazing with so much anger it snipped her bre
ath. “There are plenty of snakes that deserve to die. Dozens that are eating, fucking, and indulging in evil right inside those walls.” He stabbed a finger in the direction of the estate. “Despite what you saw last night in the basement, I’m not in the business of taking innocent lives.”

  “But you’re still a snake.” She shook her head, fighting the impulse to step back. “You’re a bad guy.”

  “I hear the question in your voice.” He prowled forward, edging into her space.

  “No question.” She thrust up her chin. “I was there this morning, remember? Pinned beneath your brutality with my face shoved into the floor.”

  “Yes, but you’re also realizing there’s more to me than that moment.”

  “Like the fact that you’re working against the cartel? That you’re hiding some traitorous shit that I want nothing to do with? Will you kill me if I discover your secrets? The cartel certainly will if they think I’m involved.”

  A muscle feathered across his shirtless chest, his expression twitching with contemplation. “I’ll tell you my secrets.”

  Her mouth parted.

  “If,” he said, “you tell me yours.”

  “Get real.”

  “Start with your education. You were born and raised in Mexico, but your English is perfect.”

  If she made up a story about that, he would read her like a lie detector. So all she gave him was a blank stare.

  He met it with one of his own, and here they were again, locked in a silent battle of wills.

  Could this guy be any more frustrating? Or intimidating? Or good-looking? Let’s face it. She’d never been more captivated by a human being, let alone a human with a dick.

  And mesmerizing green eyes.

  And sculpted lips.

  The tension between them passed, and those lips became an open-mouthed sigh. “We’re done here.”

  Turning on his heel, he jogged back toward the estate. He paced his speed to keep her at his side, but instead of heading back to his quarters, he led her to the gym.

  She welcomed that idea, hoping to avoid his bed as long as possible.

  Strolling into the weight room, he snapped his fingers at the two guests on the weight machines. “Get out.”

  “Excuse me?” The younger of the two puffed out his chest.

  “I didn’t stutter.”