Two white pills gleamed on a plate. There was a full glass of water, too, that I could have easily knocked over.
Corbin hadn’t left the whole bottle of pills. Or blister pack, if they were packaged like that. Yet he was the one going on about trust all the time. Snorting softly, I adjusted my jeans, which had gotten bunched up in awkward places, and staggered to the bathroom.
When I returned, I sat heavily and reached for the pills. Within minutes, my eyelids turned heavy. Good stuff, I thought. Nothing but the best for Corbin Lagos, assassin extraordinaire.
I wondered how often he needed to drug himself to sleep.
~~~
A warm hand shook me. “Time to get up.” The deep voice came from close to my ear, and when he spoke again, his lips tickled over my skin. “Wake up.”
I turned over. “Tired.”
The light clicked on. “Now,” he said.
“Please. Go away, Corbin.”
“Can’t do that.”
Irritation flared. “Suit yourself.” I reached out to turn the light off, but Corbin caught my wrist and forced it to the mattress, down by my hip. I felt myself getting turned on, and I felt revolted by my inappropriate desire for him.
He leaned in close. He was shirtless and wore blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms, but his jaw was free of stubble, and I could smell that he’d had coffee. “I’m not going to let you wallow in self-pity. Twenty-four hours are enough. Any more and it becomes a crutch.”
“Sorry if I’m not as coolheaded a killer as you are.” I tried to shove him and ended up with my other hand restrained.
“We’re going out.”
“Fuck, Corbin. I don’t want to go out. Leave me alone!” My plea ended in a gasp as I ran out of oxygen.
His grip tightened on my wrists. “If you think I’m going anywhere, you don’t know me at all.”
I exhaled hard, flexed and clenched my fingers, which were beginning to tingle. “Tomorrow. I’m tired.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “This isn’t a negotiation.”
“I agree with that last bit.”
The intensity of his gaze was as effective a restraint as his weight pinning me down. “I’ll give you five minutes to dress. The clothes you need are in the bathroom.”
“Or what?”
He leaned in, and I saw that dark man, the one who terrified me. “Or I will dress you,” he said, his deep voice rumbling against my skin.
I swallowed. “I look forward to it.”
With a growl, he pulled away. He loomed a moment, staring. Was that hate in his eyes? Disgust? Something in that family for sure. Though I wasn’t sure it was directed at me.
Then he stalked to the bathroom and returned a moment later with clothes that I didn’t recognize.
He yanked away the blankets and ripped off my jeans. I had been undressed by Corbin before, sometimes roughly, sometimes gently. This was… something else. Not fun.
When he tried to put long underwear on me, I twisted away and kicked at him.
“No, Audrey,” he said as he trapped my ankles in his large hands. “You’ve got a choice right now, and while you’re intent on taking the fastest path to self-destruction, I’m even more determined that you make the correct choice.”
“Fuck. You.”
The rage that filled his eyes made me recoil. I didn’t believe he would hit me. Not Corbin. Assassin, yes. Calculating? Hell yes. But not abusive. And I didn’t think he would curse me out or scream at me. That wasn’t his way.
But I sure didn’t expect him to stand up, grab the clothes and walk out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
I lay there for a few minutes, all sorts of conflicting emotions charging through me. Predominately guilt mixed with irritation. What Corbin had said was partially true—I couldn’t wallow forever—but I disagreed that one day was enough. I hadn’t accidentally trampled on someone’s flowers, for fuck’s sake.
My clenched hands shook in pointless rage. I didn’t want to take it out on Corbin, but, fuck! Why couldn’t he see that I needed space?
The door banged open, and Corbin stood there, filling the doorway with his large frame. He wore a tight black long-sleeved shirt, black synthetic pants that seemed wind and waterproof, and an expression that looked like a threat, the specifics of which I didn’t want to know.
He grabbed me, tossed me over his shoulder as if I were weightless, and ferried me down the steps.
When he reached the bottom, he let me down. Before I had a chance to glare, he grabbed my arms and forced me to walk to the back of the sofa. The unfamiliar clothes waited in a messy heap on the cushions. “Get dressed,” he said, releasing me roughly.
“Or what? What are you going to do?”
“Whatever it takes,” he said.
I started toward the stairs.
He took hold of my shoulders, not gently, and turned me. Gave me a shove. I took two steps, then stopped and turned to face him. “I said no. I’m not getting dressed. I want to sleep. Ok? Sleep!”
He approached, eyes penetrating mine. Then he whipped me around, bent me over the back of the plush sofa, and slapped my panty-covered ass. Hard.
The attraction that perpetually simmered between us exploded. The air crackled with it, and my inner muscles tightened. Apparently, underneath the numbness that dulled my misery, my body had been craving Corbin’s dominant touch most of all.
I arched my back, thrusting out my ass. This was something I could bear to feel. Something I could use. What I needed was what I’d pushed him into giving: punishment. And I needed to feel something that was positive, too, to lose myself in mindless bliss.
Corbin gathered up the back of my shirt and tightened his grip, keeping me from moving. “This isn’t a game.”
“Please,” I whimpered. I craned my neck, caught his gaze.
But he shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. “I won’t let you ruin us by using sex as a crutch. And if you were thinking clearly, you would agree.”
I ignored the flicker of doubt raised by his words. “An orgasm,” I pleaded as I sank my fingers into the soft upholstery. “It would help.”
“Oh, I’m sure it would.” His teeth flashed, but there was no humor there. “Temporarily. And then what? More sex? I fuck you until you’re raw and bloody, until you beg me to hurt you more, to break you? No. We’re not going to plug the black hole left by this tragedy with the pieces of our relationship.”
My gaze dipped down, and triumph shot through me. “Awfully poetic for a man whose erection is about to rip through his pants.” Because it was. Jeans did a passable job of restraining him, but the outline of his thick cock was well on display now. I could practically see him throbbing.
His brows drew together. “Do I want to fuck you? Yes. If we’re in the same room, it’s safe to assume that I want to stick my cock in you. But I won’t.” He slowly leaned his large body over mine. He was too close, and it was too emotionally intimate, so I looked away and arched my back, enjoying the feel of his broad chest pressing into my shoulders. I rocked my hips, urging his hardened bulge to come out and play.
I felt his breath on the back of my neck, and my pussy ached.
But he was only reaching over me for the long underwear again. “We talked about trust before. It’s something you have to give me. I can’t order it from you. But I am requesting, as sincerely as I can, that you trust me in this, Audrey. If I’ve earned your respect at all, now’s the time to show it.”
His words shot straight to my heart, weakening the walls of self-pity that I’d erected. All he asked was a chance, and I owed him that, even if I wanted to take a nap with my head in the oven.
He knelt, and I pushed away from the sofa and obediently stepped into the long underwear and allowed him to pull them up. Next he put black snow pants on me.
“Take off your shirt.”
I slowly pulled off the shirt and dropped it to the floor. I unclasped my bra, let the straps slide teasingly down my arms, waitin
g for him to tell me to leave the bra on. But he didn’t.
Apparently a man could only hold out for so long.
Corbin’s eyes were trained on mine the whole time, but I knew he was watching my hardening nipples in his peripheral vision. Maybe he could control every muscle of his face, but his dick hadn’t gotten the “ignore Audrey” memo.
“I like those pants. Bet they’re healthier than jeans,” I said.
“I appreciate your concern for my genitalia.” He might have been trying for unsexy, but I was so ramped up that his words only made me wetter.
“Very concerned. Think I should take a look—”
If his lips had compressed any tighter, they would have disappeared. “Arms up.” He pulled a sports bra over my head. And not well. I jerked away and worked the tight bra down. Then I put on the long underwear top and light-blue, soft wool sweater.
I held my arms out. “Happy?”
“Extremely. Don’t I look it?” he asked, scowling as he handed me a pair of pink knee-high socks.
It hadn’t been intended as a joke, I didn’t think, but he looked so irritated that I laughed despite myself. His scowl deepened. He grabbed two oversized shoeboxes that I hadn’t noticed sitting behind the coffee table.
I clumsily balanced against the back of the sofa and pulled on the socks. They were strangely padded, but soft. Comfortable.
“Wasn’t sure which size would be better,” he said, handing me the boxes. Inside were serious hiking boots, pink with black accents.
“What makes you think I’m into pink?”
“Let’s go,” he said, snapping his fingers.
“You didn’t say where.”
And he still didn’t.
Sighing, I sank to a crouch and tried on the boots. He’d nailed the size. At the door, he handed me a pink ski jacket and a black hat and gloves. “There’s a balaclava in your coat’s hood,” he said. “Though I don’t think we’ll need it.”
The jacket was nice. Expensive, I was sure. But pink, and I had no intention of keeping it, so I didn’t argue.
“Fit ok?”
“Guess so,” I said.
He nodded, then disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a medium-sized hiking pack, which he leaned up against the door while he laced up his large boots. Unlike the boots I’d seen him in before, these looked built for performance, not fashion, with ankle padding and deep lugs. The creases across the toes were worn to a patina, and I wondered if his job ever required him to spend days or weeks in the wilderness.
We went outside. It was still dark, the moon a glowing crescent in the sky. I glanced at Corbin, curiosity getting the better of me. “Seriously, though, where are we going?”
“Get in the truck. I’ll be out in a minute.” He opened the garage.
If things hadn’t unfolded the way they did… It was easy to imagine sitting and waiting, excited instead of dreading whatever he had planned. I wished I had accepted when Rob offered to steal the photos from the office. If only I had gone home.
But instead I’d insisted on taking care of everything.
I remembered pushing the man away, and I reflexively tightened my arms across my chest. As if being still now could somehow fix what had happened.
Corbin threw some things in the back of the SUV, closed the garage and got into the driver’s seat.
“Kidnapping is a federal offense,” I said.
“Add it to my list.”
He drove out to the main road. Instead of turning right, toward the highway that would lead us to the city, he went left.
I stared out the window, watching dark farmhouses become scarcer and trees grow closer together until there was nothing around us but forest. The roads turned into smaller roads. Bumpy. Then it was one lane, and then it wasn’t even paved at all, and the vehicle tilted and swayed. Corbin kept driving, and I hoped we would stop before all the bouncing permanently rearranged my organs.
He swerved off to the side, bringing us to an abrupt stop.
“Uh…” I peered through the dirty windshield. The sun was coming up, spilling enough light over the landscape to illuminate that we really were in the middle of nowhere.
“Come on.” He opened the door and got out, closed the door behind him. The noise was loud and final in the otherwise silent atmosphere.
~~~
Corbin was heading to my door when I pushed it open. I slid onto the ground and stood there, caught between the vehicle’s comforting warmth and the sharp chill of the winter morning.
And then Corbin stepped closer, now wearing a black ski jacket, and I felt the heat from him, so much warmer than everything else. He reached over me and closed the door, then looked down at me.
His hands wrapped around my shoulders, dropped until my hands were in his. “There’s a good chance you’ll hate the next few hours, but please trust me.” He led me to the back of the truck, where he shrugged into the backpack, four snowshoes now partially wedged under the bungee laces.
Apparently there was nothing for me to carry. If I’d been feeling myself, I might have protested, but at the moment, fairness and pulling my own weight were low on my list of concerns.
Corbin picked up two pairs of hiking poles that had sat in a pile on the bumper. He unscrewed the bottom of one and telescoped out the pole, handed it to me, then repeated with the second one. His poles, however, he left collapsed.
“Where are we going?”
Electric blue-green eyes patiently turned my way. “For a walk.” Like it was obvious.
“To where?”
Instead of answering, he strode off, following a snowy path that was nearly invisible to me.
“You’re right. I do hate this,” I muttered. It didn’t take fifteen steps before I was fucking over the whole thing. I hadn’t eaten enough in the last few days, and I felt as depleted as if I’d just gotten over the flu. And Corbin moved like he intended to shatter a world record.
“Corbin!” His name flew out of my mouth in a cloudy puff. A crow cawed nearby.
He kept walking.
I jammed my hiking poles into a snowdrift and crossed my arms. “Hey!” But Corbin kept going.
“Heading back,” I said. When he didn’t even slow down, I abandoned the poles and doubled back to the SUV. It was locked, of course. Because heaven forbid I sit out this pointless excursion.
I waited a few minutes for Corbin to return for me. When he didn’t, I cursed him loudly and thoroughly. Minutes ticked by, and my light shivering turned to chattering teeth. So those were my choices: freeze or trudge through wilderness.
I stomped back onto the trail, snatching up my poles as I passed them.
All the fury I’d felt at my situation, at the weight that I now bore, was funneled into Corbin. If I had never met him, none of this would have happened.
None of the good, either. I would still be working all the time, picking up random guys for a fast, often unsatisfying, screw.
My ending up with Corbin was really my dad’s fault for pushing me so hard, not giving me time to develop friends, a life.
My father and his distrustful meddling. If he hadn’t hired Smile to spy on me… I felt my anger tick up a notch. “We put the fun in dysfunctional,” Rob liked to say when things were particularly bad.
But there was no fun.
My mind turned back to Corbin as I chased his mocking tracks through the snow. Far as I could see, he hadn’t paused anywhere, giving me a chance to catch up. And he damned sure hadn’t turned around at any point. The bastard was long gone.
The trail split, and I stopped to catch my breath. I considered following the other path. Two roads diverging in a not-so-yellow wood and all that. The pristine path seemed level whereas Corbin had, of course, chosen the steeper trail. Going off on my own would teach Corbin a valuable lesson, too; he should have waited there for me, should have asked which way I wanted to go.
Screw it. I would find him, get the keys—even if I had to skewer him on a pole to do it. Maybe I�
�d leave him out there. See how he liked it.
I redoubled my effort, the poles stabbing the snow with every step. I finally settled into a predictable if ungraceful rhythm. Left pole, right leg. Right leg, left pole. Blood was pumping through my veins now, and the angry buzz quieted, then melted away. The wind’s kiss on my cheeks turned from biting to soothing.
After forty minutes of hard walking, I saw Corbin up ahead, the backpack hanging from a broken branch. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking calm and at ease. When I drew near, he pulled a yogurt bar out of one of his coat pockets and handed it to me, then held out a large, sloshing pouch with backpack straps.
“That’s yours,” he said.
“Not going to make me eat snow if I get thirsty?” I gave him a dirty look as I ripped ravenously into the bar, then washed it down with several swallows of pouch water. “What if I need to pee or something?”
Corbin gestured to indicate that there were plenty of places to take care of that. “You’re hardly shy.” He handed me a small bag of mixed nuts. I jammed them into my pocket.
He pulled the snowshoes out of the backpack’s bungee lacing and dropped the smaller ones in front of me. “Lean on me,” he said as he knelt.
“I want the keys.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” he said. “Come on.”
There was something a little weird about looking down at a 6’3” man who was pure muscle. And an unexpected thought floated into my mind: I wanted him on his knees, but not like this. On one knee.
The thought was so disconcerting that rather than follow through on my demand, I placed my hand on his shoulder. Even through his coat, I felt the solid strength of his thick muscles.
“Little help here,” he grunted. “Don’t want to knock you over.”
I picked up my foot, and he slid a snowshoe underneath and tightened the bindings. When they were both on, he made me walk back and forth a few times until he was satisfied that everything was properly adjusted.
“How long is this trek gonna be, anyway? Because—”
“Long as it takes.” He stepped into his snowshoes and tightened them.
Tempted by a Dangerous Man Page 2
