Steal Me (Longshadows Book 1)

by Natalia Banks

She seductively runs her tongue along her lips, moistening them and giving them a sheen that makes them impossibly kissable. It’s like she’s casting a spell on me. Everything in me feels drawn to her, and every passing second makes it harder to resist her.

  Her body comes off the wall to move millimeters closer to me. That little show of challenge, of spirit, makes me harder than I’ve ever been in my life. But she’s not in charge. With my body, I pin her, realizing my mistake the second I feel her curves and softens against me.

  She feels like everything light and good, every bit of heaven with the sexiest parts of hell, honey with a tart bite of lemon. Sheer excellence. Her breasts are soft and yield to my ribs, her soft stomach cushioning against the hard length of me now pressing into her belly.

  Fuck.

  She’s incredible. I want to feel her, to bury myself inside her without regard to how she might feel about it. I want to use her beautiful body to satiate this hunger gnawing away at my insides.

  Her head tilts and I feel her trying to rise up on tiptoes, and I allow her the small motion. Then, her soft lips are on mine, their dampness driving every sane, logical thought from my mind. I vaguely feel her free arm circle my neck, but I’m still holding the other pinned to the wall.

  Her whole body is thumping with her speedy pulse and I even feel her heartbeat in her lips. She’s terrified, turned on, and so incredibly sexy, I can’t believe it. What did she think she was hearing on the other side of the wall?

  Her hips tilt under mine and I know she’s trying to grind on me. Fuck. I’m the master of my body, of my women, of people around me. Not her. She’s not in charge, she’s not the one I take orders from. No, she’s going to do what I want.

  She breaks the kiss and I feel her cool breath on my damp lips. There’s a deep wanting in her eyes as she presses her forehead to mine, her hazel eyes darting back and forth between mine. Down her shirt, I can see she’s not even wearing a bra and her hard nipples are the palest pink I’ve ever seen.

  Fuck.

  She’s so damned sexy. I meet her hazel gaze and she turns her head to kiss me again. But I don’t respond. I can’t. If this continues, I will have no choice but take her here and now.

  But I’m not that kind of monster.

  I’ll intimidate. I’ll terrify. I will not rape.

  Some lines should never be crossed.

  Willing myself to be strong, I break the kiss and bring my free hand down to circle her throat. Not tightly. I’m not trying to hurt or kill, I’m reminding her I’m in charge here. Reminding her to be afraid. That I’m her worst nightmare, not masturbation fuel.her eyes warn me that I missed this one. With my fingers resting on her throat, I can feel her pulse first, her swallow second, but the fire in her eyes is all consuming as another tiny, sexy moan leaves her slightly parted lips.

  “We must have a conversation,” I tell her in my most menacing tone. My voice only seems to make her melt.

  Her body sags against mine and I keep her upright by keeping her pinned to the wall with my weight. I lean into her a bit more, loving how she still manages to yield to me.

  She says nothing, but gives the merest hint of a nod.

  “I’d like you to come back with me,” I say and wait a second for her nod again. I need her to be agreeing to this, every step of the way. Even if she’s agreeing under duress.

  She gives that nod again, her eyes locked on mine even as her hips try to grind on me again. I’m not even sure she’s aware of the tiny motion of her body begging for contact, for orgasm. Her skin is so soft under my fingers, I want to dig them into her throat, if nothing else to see the flash of shock and excitement I’m sure she’ll have.

  “You’ll come next door with me?” It’s not really a question, but having her agree on multiple occasions will leave her feeling less like I’m kidnapping her and more like she’s making this decision.

  Not that I’m sure she’d deny me anything right now. Her body is a mess of desperation, begging me to give her more, more, more. And fuck, I want to give her everything she craves. Everything.

  Chapter 9

  Jane

  Connor’s fingers close around my throat and I want to moan in the flash of pleasure it brings. There’s nothing rough in his touch, not squeezing or pain; and I realize he’s not trying to hurt me. He’s making sure I know he’s in charge, that I’m supposed to be afraid of him.

  And it makes me melt. I feel like a candle in the hot sun.

  I am scared of him. I’m not sure why. Something about him is just so menacing.

  His fingers feel so heavy on my throat and so rough. He’s got calluses like he works hard with his hands. It’s sexy after all the soft, well moisturized and maintained hands of the guys I’ve been with over the years. Not that any of them ever grabbed my throat like this.

  Staring into those incredible blue eyes, I find myself hoping he does more, that he proves his dominance over me by taking me. He can keep his hand round my throat, hell, it’ll make me come faster, I’m sure.

  Damn, I never even knew this was a thing that would work for me. I guess this is one hell of a way to learn about a fetish.

  “We must have a conversation,” he says in a rich, deep tone that rolls over me like warm water. As it passes over me, I feel my muscles turn to jello and I just can’t hold myself up. It’s like he’s speaking an order that my body can’t deny. The jump in my pulse leaves me lightheaded and I can’t see as a haze of excitement rolls in like thick fog.

  As if to keep me on my feet, Connor leans into me, his weight crushing me into the wall. It's not painful or even unpleasant. It’s kind of sweet, the thought of him holding onto me so I don’t fall at his feet.

  There’s a little growl from him as he adjusts against me and I realize the hard thing pressing into my stomach is his cock. He’s got a massive boner and he’s pressing it against me, and I can’t even…

  I need this. I need it now. I want him to fuck me, no I need for him to fuck me.

  Maybe if I go home with him, he’ll…

  My head nods before I can even consider how stupid I’m being. Yes, please, possible serial killer, or worse – shudder – method actor, take me back to your room and dissect me. No one knows I’m here. Even my dad won’t come look for me for a week. He's like a fucking bloodhound.

  What can I say? I’m clearly an idiot.

  As if he’s pushing to make sure I agree, he asks again, in a slightly different way. “I’d like you to come back with me,” he says, and my knees buckle. With his weight holding me in place, it’s hardly a noticeable thing.

  I nod, wanting him to know I agree. That I’m consenting. With whatever he’d like to do to me. Except murder. I’m not consenting to that.

  This time, it sounds less like a question and more like an order. “You’ll come next door with me?” He asks, his blue eyes slashing back and forth between mine like he’s trying to read my mind.

  I nod once more.

  And it clicks. He’s making sure that I agree. He’s trying to make me feel like it’s my idea, that I had many chances to say no. That way, if I get upset later, I won’t have a leg to stand on. I agreed. On three separate occasions.

  God, I want to tell him that I want this, that I’ll follow him like a lost puppy right now; if only to try and figure out why my body is acting like this around him.

  He backs off. For the first time since he came in my room, I feel like I can take a deep breath. But it doesn’t help anything. As he takes my hand, looking at me like a lover he’s desperate to run away with, I feel mesmerized as I follow him.

  Connor stops to close the door to my room before leading me to his room next door. My heart is pounding in my ears and I wonder if I’m really going to faint. I’ve never fainted before, so it’s yet another new experience this sexy brute could introduce me to.

  In his room, there’s a single chair in the middle of the room with a broken back. I gulp, wondering how it came to be broken. Maybe it was broken when he ca
me in the room. Surely he didn’t bust up that treated wood chair, designed to be sturdy.

  Right?

  I expect him to put me on the chair, but instead he leads me into the kitchen. When he turns to face me, I feel my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth. What is he going to do to me in here? Why is his room nicer than mine?

  Somebody in the booking department definitely shafted me.

  Connor reaches down and grabs my hips. With an easy motion, he lifts me and plops me on the counter.

  He places his hands on either side of my knees at the edge of the counter and leans in. His face is inches from mine and I love it. “So what’s your name?” he asks, his tone decidedly lighter. The smooth sound of it sends a shiver down my spine and I know my nipples have got to be rock hard based on the sensation flowing through them and jolting pleasure right to my core.

  “Jane.” My throat is so dry the word is a rasping shadow of sound.

  His electric blue eyes lock on mine and I stare him down.

  Next door, someone begins banging on the door and my heart sinks. No way he’s here.

  “Jane?” The guy shouts and I squeeze my eyes closed. My boyfriend. He figured it out. But how? I was so careful! I covered my tracks!

  “Open the door!”

  That’s Zac alright. And he sounds pissed.

  Chapter 10

  Connor

  When I stand her before the kitchen counter, I see the surprise in her lovely hazel eyes. Something in me wants to keep her guessing. The sparkle in her eyes that screams of danger and flame stirs something in me I can’t quantify or justify.

  Through great self-control, I grab her hips and lift her onto the counter. When her bottom hits the cool surface she inhales a breath that’s all shock and pleasure. I see the spasm of her pupils and revel in her delight.

  Gripping the edge of the counter in a concentrated effort to keep my hands to myself, I lean in toward her. Time to get down to business.

  “So what’s your name?” I ask, needing to know who she is. I want to put a name to the images I have of her in my mind.

  She shivers and I see her nipples harden under her shirt. Her eyes narrow a tiny bit in pleasure and she studies me as if she’s thinking about what she’d like me to do to her.

  “Jane.” The word sticks in her throat and I feel my cock pulse at the sound of it. Her voice is incredible, so soft and delicate, slightly raspy and beautiful.

  I study her face, loving the curve of her cheeks to her chin, the gentle flair of her jaw line, how the escaped tendrils of her hair are framing her face and neck. She’s all contrasts, pale skin, dark hair, startling green and honey brown eyes.

  There’s a loud knock at her door next door and her whole body jerks taut in unmistakable terror. I see the flash of panic in her eyes and wonder what’s happening. What is developing? Was she not here alone? The room had had one person’s things. When I’d scanned the room I’d noticed one toothbrush, women’s clothes, and girl’s shoes.

  Though, I guess that’s not actually a way to tell anymore with men wearing women’s pants as a fashion choice. I’ll never understand it, but it’s none of my business.

  “Jane?” The guy shouts, and her eyes close tightly as if she can wish him away.

  “Open the door!” The guy shouts, his voice furious.

  I watch her, wondering what this new development means. She opens her eyes and leans closer to me, whether or not she means to I don’t know, but she seems to be leaning on me for comfort.

  It bothers me that she’s less scared of me than she is of this new guy. Why? What does he do to her that would make her afraid of him?

  Why do I suddenly feel so protective of this girl I’ve had less than kind intentions toward? I’d resigned myself to hurting her should I need to, but the thought of someone else hurting her infuriates me to the point it’s hard to see straight.

  I don’t know what this asshole did to make her cower like this, but I’d like to choke him. And not the same way I was threatening to choke her back at her place. Fuck if that didn’t make her hot. And not just her, I’m still suffering a nearly painful erection.

  All of that aside, the last thing I need is more attention on this train wreck of a situation. If this guy makes a stink, that might bring cops. Cops bring a whole host of questions and boys in blue that I don’t want to have to answer to. About anything.

  As it is, I still have no idea what Jane here knows about Cami. Does she know I coerced her into coming home with me? That I didn’t give her a choice but to come talk to me? That I was intimidating her, threatening her, holding her hostage until she gave me the information I needed?

  No, I can’t risk Jane talking to the police.

  Who knows what she might tell them, what dirt she might have gathered with her ear to the wall in the room next door.

  As the guy pounds on the door again, I feel fury surging through my veins.

  “Who is he?” I ask, my voice tight with anger. She looks up at me, shock in her eyes as her full lips open a tiny bit.

  “Um, well,” she whispers as the guy continues banging on the door and shouting next door, “He’s my boyfriend.”

  I back off and lean against the opposite counter while crossing my arms. She stammers at me. “I mean, ex-boyfriend. Well, I didn’t actually break up with him. I just, uh… ditched him.” She’s looking at me like I’ve got to hate her and think she’s a piece of shit.

  But I don’t give a fuck. I know guys who don’t take no for an answer. I think she should own up, put on her big girl panties and tell him it’s over rather than try to get around it. Not talking to him might make him eventually get the hint, but it’s a shitty way to do things.

  Not that I have any place judging anyone’s way of living their life. It’s not like I’m some shining fucking example of an incredible, upstanding citizen. But still, something in the way she closes up like a flower at the end of the night leaves me certain there’s more to this situation.

  There’s always more to the story. Everyone has their reasons for the things they do. What hers are, I can only imagine, but I have to accept they’re valid in her mind. Even if I don’t agree with them exactly.

  “I need him gone,” I tell her. Her eyes widen, but she’s not reading the total wrong idea in my words. To make sure she knows what I mean, I follow it up with, “How do I get rid of him?” What better way to really find out how she feels about this guy than to offer to kill him?

  Chapter 11

  Jane

  “Um, well… He’s my boyfriend,” I say.

  Instantly Connor backs off and crosses his arms like he’s trying to close me out of every bit of his life. I need him to know I’m not that girl. I’m not just some chick ready to cheat on my boyfriend, that there are reasons. Maybe not good enough reasons, but reasons all the same.

  My voice breaks as I try to explain my position. But the words sound so weak. “I mean, ex-boyfriend. Well, I didn’t actually break up with him. I just, uh… ditched him.” Oh, my god. He’s got to think I’m some kind of stupid whore.

  I look into his eyes a moment, but can’t read his expression. I lower my head and stare at my legs, wishing I could disappear. Here I am in my short shorts, my tank top without a bra, my slutty attire. I must look like a total winner to this guy. I mean, he doesn’t know that I’m dressed like this to beat the heat, or that I had no plans of someone barging in my room on me.

  He's probably thinking about how hard I was coming onto him. Because I know I was. This sexy man is way more man than I’ve ever known, and he’s so damn sexy I can’t think straight. But he’s not in my head. He’s out there. Out where my thoughts mean nothing and words are as empty as most people’s heads.

  Well, at least I got some hot kisses. Not a total disaster, right?

  “I need him gone,” he says, and I stare him dead in the eyes, trying to figure out what he’s saying. Is he offering to kill my boyfriend? That’s a hell of a lot easier than breaking up wit
h him…

  …if I was a total psycho.

  Which I’m not.

  “How do I get rid of him?” he asks, the tone making the threat much more clear this time.

  Yep, my man meat dream guy is offering to kill my boyfriend. How sweet.

  It’s funny how everything seems to be coming full circle like this. I mean, I ditched everyone and faked a whole lot of stuff to even get some time alone. I figured dad would notice something was wrong first, not my idiot boyfriend. He must be super pissed.

  But as I study Connor, I realize that I’ve had a better time these last few hours than I have in the last twenty two years. It’s a bit sad, actually. Sure, he might just be waiting to kill me or whatever, but I’ve never felt so alive. I’ve never been in so much danger. I’ve never met anyone like him. And it’s terrifying and awesome all at once, to know he’s a man willing to take care of anything, his way, without worries.

  I shake my head, wanting to convey that I don’t want him to kill my boyfriend. I just want him gone. Not dead gone, just turn around walk away gone.

  Besides, I don’t want Zac to cause problems with Connor. If he draws too much attention to this, who knows what will happen? If the cops come, there will be plenty of uncomfortable moments. Dad will find out where I am. Then I’ll be in for an assload of new issues.

  Fuck. I don’t want that to happen.

  We’ve got to get rid of Zac. But how?

  I listen and realize he’s gone quiet, as if he’s finally given up. Or like he’s assuming I’m out and that he can wait for me to get back and harass me. Why is he here?

  I’m going to have to break up with him. There’s no way around it.

  Connor moves back toward me, his face inches form my ear as he leans in. I smell his cologne; thick, spicy, all male like wet metal after a hot rain. It’s sexy as hell and I can’t hear over the thud of my heart.