Steal Me (Longshadows Book 1)

by Natalia Banks

  “Are you going to try to take her?” I ask, my patience wearing thin. It’s starting to feel like she’s jerking me around. Why else wouldn’t she answer me such a simple question? She shouldn’t have to even think about it.

  No, I’m not.

  Not a hard phrase.

  But yes I am would be very hard to admit. Even I wouldn’t want to be in her place saying those words to my face.

  I decide to up her fear another notch. With a show of anger I don’t actually feel, I kick the plastic trash bin across the room. Cami yelps and flinches away from me.

  The can strikes the wall and I hear a very audible, “Ouch.” On the other side of it.

  Someone is listening.

  Fuck.

  Chapter 5

  Jane

  There’s a knock at my door and I freeze. So much for hoping he didn’t hear me. Rubbing the ear that had taken the brunt of the loud sound of whatever hit the wall, I try to decide if I should stay quiet. Maybe he’ll think he imagined me.

  “Room service,” The voice on the other side says, but I know better. I’d know that voice anywhere. Anywhere. That voice is going to haunt my dreams and maybe even my every waking moment.

  what is he going to do if he finds me? And why does the thought add a sinister excitement to the liquid fear I feel pumping through my veins? This is so not the time to be crushing on the guy’s incredibly alluring voice and just as impressive quiet rage.

  My heart slams in my chest as I try to figure out what to do. It was clever of him to say that he’s room service. But I didn’t order anything. I bet that’s a good way to get into people’s rooms, though.

  What do I do? What should I do?

  Standing frozen by the wall I’d been listening through before the whole thing had reverberated with a painful slam, I stare at the door, then around the room. It’s not a beautiful place, it’s not bad either. The door to the bathroom is slightly open and I see the issue I’d had the first day I’d come here; the shower curtain, when pulled back, looks like a person’s shadow standing there.

  What annoyed me then feels like a life saver now. Because a half-formed plan is knocking about in my panic addled mind. Struggling to breathe normally and be quiet, I glance at the door again. He’s gone silent. What is he going to do next?

  Panic pounds at my temples in time with my heartbeat and I run my tongue over the roof of my mouth. It feels like I’m rubbing a dry stone over damp tissue paper. It’s disgusting. What should I do?

  Gathering what I know about this man, I can make a few judgments. Clearly, he’s not going to stop. If he’s willing to kidnap someone, then he’s willing to do bad things, criminal things.

  I need to hide.

  Under the bed? At a glance, I know that’s not a good idea. Everyone always looks there first. I’m not a fucking five year old playing hide and seek, I’m a grown woman needing to escape a terrifying man-beast who’s obviously gunning for me now.

  I wonder what Cami is doing? Is she cowering in the other room, thanking her lucky stars? Or is she working with the man trying to get into my room right now?

  I need to think clearly. Hiding is a stupid idea. Unless I hide in such a way that I can get away.

  Glancing around the room again, my gaze comes to rest on the door as he knocks again, saying he’s room service.

  My half formed plan suddenly slips into sight like a kaleidoscope shifting into a familiar pattern. If I get behind the door, he might come into the room looking for me. That bathroom shadow that looks like a person might be enough to lure him in. Once he’s in the room, I can slip out the front door and run.

  With terror backing bile up my throat, I walk toward the front door. My heart is hammering so hard against my ribs, I’m worried he’ll hear it even now. It feels like such a thin barrier between us. On the other side of this wooden slab stands the man whose voice makes me melt, but whose questionable life choices leave me terrified of him.

  Still, my heart beats quicker at the thought of him being so close.

  I hear what sounds like him shifting his weight on the other side. The floorboards under him groan a little and I want to silently congratulate myself. Clearly, he’s tall. And beefy. Because I don’t make the floor boards make noise. Then again, I’m a tiny, slim girl.

  Still, now doesn’t seem like the time for showboating.

  I hold my breath. What is he doing? Is he considering his next move? I stare at the wall, seeing how dirty the paint seems. Up this close, I realize that this spot on the wall is clearly touched a lot but not cleaned a lot. Gross.

  He knocks again, this time with a soft, gentle knock.

  I wonder if he can hear me as I let out my breath. My heart is thundering against my ribs and I feel faint. The suspense is killing me. Why doesn’t he do something? Why not make some move? Put me out of my misery.

  “Room service,” he says again, this time quieter. As much as I want to tell him I didn’t order anything, that I’m not interested, I still feel that it’s smarter to stay quiet. I don’t want him to know I’m here. I want him to think that he imagined hearing me.

  However, with him still hovering right outside, I know that’s not an option.

  My eyes stray to the door and I realize it’s not locked. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Oh, god. If I lock it, he’ll hear it. I bet it won’t stop him even if I do lock it.

  But, my brain reasons, what if he tries to open it and finds it locked? That might deter him, right?

  Of course. Because a criminal always stops and thinks; Hey, I shouldn’t do this. It’s a crime. I wouldn’t want to be a bad guy.

  Rolling my eyes at that stupid, shortsighted line of thinking, I decide not to lock it. The sound would tell him I’m right here on the other side of the door and would ruin any chance of a getaway. At least this way he won’t break the door.

  Still, what are the odds he’ll actually try to come in? I mean-

  The door handle turns and my heart stops.

  Oh, fuck.

  Chapter 6

  Connor

  The handle turns under my hand and I push the door open. Scanning the room before I step over the threshold, I feel every nerve in my body come alive in a very real response of fight; not flight.

  The wall I share with this person looks like they’ve set up a station to listen. On a nightstand that’s been moved over there is a drink, still beaded up with condensation. Prickles run up and down my skin as I study the place, unwilling to actually walk all the way in.

  I don’t know that I’m not walking into a trap.

  Whose room is this? Why are they listening to my conversation with Cami? Is she double crossing me?

  I dismiss the idea. She’s not a mastermind like that. Even her best formulated plots have been hare brained and riddled with mistakes. No, this is something else. And I’m going to get to the bottom of it.

  Because the information that we’d been discussing next door is a bit too sensitive for me to trust just anyone to understand. And I may have incriminated myself. So for now, I’d like to at least talk to this person, to figure out what they know, why they’re listening, and what they want.

  Everyone wants something.

  There’s a tiny sound near me and that icy hot wave of prickling sensations roar over my flesh. But I don’t react. I know better than to jump first and ask questions later. I realize that whoever it is is behind the door.

  Smart. They’d expected me to barge in and charge through the place like a tornado looking for them. I’m sure they’d have used those precious few seconds to slip out the door. They’d be gone before I could even realize I’d missed them.

  This is why I don’t act first. Rational, intelligent thinking means covering every base. It means considering every angle. It means not charging in and hoping for the best. Meticulous planning and logical progression of situations lead to favorable outcomes.

  I grab the door and swing it closed.

  Behind it, a slim girl presses her bac
k to the door, her terror shining in her face as she stares up at me with wide hazel eyes. Her dark hair is woven into a messy braid over her shoulder that is loose at the end and beginning to unravel. It’s a pleasing representation of her situation, I think. Poetic.

  Her little white shorts show a beautiful length of legs. There’s a beautiful outward curve of her thighs and her hips are a bit wide for her tiny frame. Her belly is flat and peeks at me from under her little tank top with every breath she takes. I can even see the slight jut of her hip bones before they disappear under the waistband of her shorts.

  The shirt shows off the tucked in shape of her waist and doesn’t hide the delicate flare of her ribs. With every deep, terrified breath she takes, her chest rises and falls, lifting the hem of her shirt to show me a line of belly before lowering to meet the top of her shorts again.

  The neckline of the shirt plunges and offers a glimpse of the top curve of her breasts and a hint of her cleavage. Her breasts aren’t huge, no, they’re just the right size for her small frame. I doubt she’s more than a b cup, but it suits her. She’s not drop dead sexy, but there’s an allure to her I can’t deny.

  Her eyes are locked on me like I’m a wolf preparing to eat her. I bet she’s watching me study her, certain there’s a totally different fate for her. Because I’m not above leveraging her fear to get to her.

  Her face is pretty in a girl next door way. There’s nothing overtly beautiful about her, but her features are pleasing.

  She’s trembling.

  Her hand comes up, like she’s going to brush the hair from her face, but I grab her wrist.

  There’s very real terror in her eyes and I notice all the little rings decorating her graceful fingers. I stay locked on her gaze as her lips part slightly. Her full lower lip trembles slightly and I can feel her pulse on the inside of her wrist where I’m still holding her.

  Her eyes dart to my arm before meeting mine again.

  I know she’s trying to push back hard into the wall as if she can melt into a puddle of wet paint, but I step in closer. Her skin is soft against the rough calluses of my hand. I can see her heart beat against the hollow at the base of her throat and I see something sparkling in her eyes. Fear, of course, but something that looks quite like excitement.

  This might be harder than I thought.

  My body responds to the sudden flash of heat in her expression. She’s turned on right now, I can feel it in her pulse, I can see it in her eyes, I can smell it.

  Her eyes dart to my lips and I know she’s thinking about how it would feel if I kissed her. The rise and fall of her chest becomes quicker and something quite like a whimper leaves her throat. She’s so close to me I can feel her heat. I can feel her body pushing toward me even as she recoils in fear and self-loathing. I get it. She’s hating herself even as she craves something I can give her. Oh, what a sweet contradiction.

  She’s not even pulling her arm in a feeble attempt to free herself, no, she’s totally at my mercy in every single way possible. And it’s fucking turning her on. Jesus, I want her right now. Everything in me struggles against lifting her, pushing her to the wall, pulling those little shorts to the side and plunging up in her.

  Her pupils spasm and I know her thoughts are mirroring mine.

  Chapter 7

  Jane

  He swings the door closed, his eyes locked on me and I feel my heart implode in my chest.

  Oh, fuck.

  He closes the distance between us in a single step and I press my back to the wall like a hole will open up to swallow me whole. No such luck, though, and I find myself stuck between the devil in the flesh and a stone wall. Somehow, with his mere presence, Connor fills the room, no, the whole damn building.

  His eyes assess my face, my hair, and drop to my legs. I want to tug my short shorts down a little, to adjust them so they cover me a little better, but I don’t dare move. As the stranger’s eyes wander up to my hips, to my stomach, my chest, a sinking sensation pulls my heart to my belly.

  Oh, god, he wouldn’t…

  I can’t even think it. He wouldn’t do something so unthinkable, would he?

  But he’s looking at me like I’m actually naked before him. His imposing height blocks any thought of escape, and I can’t stand how hard my heart is slamming. It hurts, aches deep in my very soul.

  His dark hair is close cropped, and his eyes are the bluest I’ve ever seen. He’s more handsome that I’d imagined, with powerful features that might belong on some Greek god. He’s tall – I totally called that one – and built like a man who spends more than a reasonable amount of time in the gym. Again, called it. He’s fucking gorgeous, a huge change from my usual taste in men.

  But my taste in men is based on the only thing I get to see; or be around, I guess. I don’t know what the fuck is with hipsters, but they’re everywhere in my city. Sadly, it’s easier to settle for them than to really search. There don’t seem to be any guys like this monster before me anywhere. Maybe I need to find new hangouts or get new friends.

  With Connor’s blue eyes studying my every facial flaw, I wonder how his eyes seem to glow almost, they’re so pale blue. I could stare at them all day and never figure them out, I bet. He’s pretty. In a terrifying, insanely manly kind of way.

  The tickle of hair on my neck annoys me and I lift my hand to brush it away.

  Quick as a cobra strike, his fingers circle my wrist. He holds me there, his eyes caressing my fingers for a slight seconds before coming back to pin me under a glare that’s leaving me melting in his hold. The physical man has an intensity I can’t believe.

  And the size of that arm! Oh, my god, he could break me in two.

  Mmmm. Wouldn’t that be something? His eyes move to my throat and I bet he can see my pulse hammering away there. Holy crap, I’m not sure if I’m more afraid of this brute, or more fucking turned on by him. He’s sexy. If he talks, I’m fucking done. Done. I’ll have to throw away these shorts.

  Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! He’s doing this little thing with his lips that kind of purses them a little bit, like he’s considering eating me. His lips are beautifully shaped, not huge, but full enough I bet they’d feel amazing on mine. I bet he’d kiss with as much intensity as he’s looking at me with.

  Oh, my god, he’s looking at me like he wants to fuck me right here, right now.

  A flash of an image forms in my brain and blazes white hot through me. I imagine him lifting me up right here, bracing me on the wall and fucking me around the short shorts I’m wearing. I’m not wearing anything under them. They’re hardly a barrier. He could easily bypass them…

  I just moaned. It was small, but he’s right here - in my face, he heard it!

  I study his eyes, noting the way they narrow a tiny bit, as if he’s struggling to control his thoughts. Part of me doesn’t want him to control himself. Oh, my god, I want him to lose control. I want him to finish this fire he ignited in me.

  On the other side of the wall, I hear his door open and close. Cami! She’s running away! Well, at least if he kills me, I can die knowing I got that girl her freedom. Or I can feel responsible for ending some improv scene. Or feel good killing two method actor careers.

  What, what if it’s a sex thing?

  I blink and Connor leans in so close I can feel his breath. It tickles over my skin and goose bumps break out over every inch of me. A shiver follows the spots and he reassesses me before meeting my stare with something quite like a small smirk. He knows what he’s doing!

  Did he not hear Cami leave? Should I tell him?

  As I look up at him, I know there’s no way I could say anything. His eyes dart over my head and I know he’s thinking about it for a second. What is he going to do? Keep me cornered? Or go after her?

  Hecontinues holding me. With my wrist still pinned in his hand, he leans forward and pushes it to the wall over my head. His other hand comes to rest near my shoulder and I feel the sudden cage he’s erecting around me.

 
I guess he’s going to keep me here.

  It’s totally a sex thing. I know it. That’s why he’s here, lording all this sexy power over me. Why he’s not staying to continue roleplay with Cami, I don’t know. I mean, I bet she’s prettier than I am, and obviously she’s way more down for his kinky stuff than some random he’s meeting for the first time in the hotel room next door.

  Then again, on the kink level, I think my listening in makes me way more of a freak than the girl he’s fake kidnapping.

  Chapter 8

  Connor

  I hear the door close and know Cami realized that she can make a getaway and that sooner is better than later.

  I’m not worried about her. I’m much more focused on this little lady and what I should do with her. To her. For her. Fuck. She’s looking up at me like she wants to tell me that Cami left, but she’s not sure how to interrupt what I’m doing to her to say anything.

  She doesn’t want me to leave.

  She wants me to stay here with her, not run off and chase down Cami.

  She wants to be the focus of my attention.

  Interesting. I wonder how far I could push this fear and lust combo. It’s clearly like a drug to her and I’m even feeling high from it.

  I lean forward, closer to her, and press her wrist to the wall like I’m holding her captive.

  I am.

  I place my other hand near her shoulder; close enough she can feel my heat but not so close there’s contact.

  Her whole body shudders on an inhaled breath and she looks up at me with just her eyes, a sudden sexy movement that leaves my cock pulsing. Her chin begins to lift, to tilt upward by degrees like she’s issuing a silent challenge. One I wish I could turn down.