“I need to look at your shoulder again before you lie down,” she said at his back.
He didn’t answer, just found the closest bedroom and pulled her inside. Closing the door with his boot, he tugged off his jacket and tossed it on a chair to his right, then did the same with his T-shirt and pulled her toward the bed.
“Impatient, aren’t you?” she mumbled. He set the bag of supplies they’d picked up on the bed beside him while she shrugged out of her sweatshirt, dropped it on the ground, and then began gently peeling away his bandages.
Zane closed his eyes. “I’m a man, darlin’. We’re always impatient.”
“I remember. This actually looks pretty good. I’m just going to change the dressing.”
He didn’t want to think about what she remembered. He had enough memories pinging around in his brain for both of them—and most were the X-rated variety. He sat still while she removed the soaked bandages, added antibiotic ointment, and covered the wound again. But his stomach clenched every time her soft fingers grazed his skin, and with every breath he drew, a whiff of that sweet peach scent bombarded him, amping his awareness and sending blood straight to his groin.
“There,” she said, placing the last piece of tape over the wound. “Now you just need to take these before you pass out, and you should be good.” She handed him two pills from the bottle they’d picked up at the pet store and stepped away.
He snagged her by the wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get you a glass of water.”
“No water.” He popped the pills in his mouth and dry swallowed them.
There was just enough light coming through the window to see her exasperated expression. “Wow. What a stud you are.”
He ignored the sarcasm and patted the mattress beside him. “Get comfortable, sweetheart.”
She sighed. “Look, Archer. I—”
He jerked her toward him. A yelp slipped from her lips just before she fell into his body. Heat immediately enveloped him, but he quickly flipped her to her back, then climbed over her.
“Archer—”
Her warning was laced with just a touch of fear. Just enough to tell him he’d surprised her. And considering nothing seemed to surprise this woman, he was using that to his advantage.
He grasped both of her arms at the wrists and pinned them above her head. Pain ricocheted from his shoulder down his arm and back up again, but he ignored it. Just like he tried to ignore her trim hips locked between his knees and the way the light from the window spilled over her breasts and bare abdomen in that revealing top. “Here’s how this is going to work, sweetheart. I’m going to close my eyes for a few hours, and you’re going to stay right here beside me where I know you can’t get into any trouble. Then, when I wake up, I’ll call Carter, and we can both be rid of each other for good.”
She pursed her lips and lifted her chin, a clear challenge glinting in her eyes. “I’d like to be rid of you right now.”
“Too bad. You’re stuck with me.” He lowered his weight onto her, let go of one arm, and cinched the zip tie hidden in his hand around her wrist.
“Archer . . . What the hell?”
Zane looped the second zip tie through hers, tightened it around his own wrist, and then rolled off her onto his back.
“Oh my God.” She sat upright. “You did not just do that. Where the fuck did you get more zip ties?”
He yanked on her arm until his lowered back to the bed. “I stole them. You’re not the only one who can filch goods unnoticed, beautiful.” He relaxed back into the pillows and closed his eyes. “Now lie down.”
“You are so gonna pay for this.”
He didn’t need to see the smoke pumping from her ears to know it was there. He could hear it in her voice and feel it in the heat radiating from her skin. A wry smile curled his lips. “I figure I’m already doing time in purgatory, thanks to you. A few more years won’t kill me.”
“And to think,” Eve snapped as she flopped back onto the bed, “I was actually worried about you.”
Zane’s humor faded. “We both know you weren’t worried. You were just biding your time until you could run. I’m not a stupid Southern hick, sweetheart. Now shut up so I can get some sleep.”
“Don’t mind me,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and dragging his hand with her. “I’ll just be sitting here plotting all the ways I can murder you in your sleep.”
He chuckled. Now that was the feisty brunette he remembered. “Just do it quietly. I’m beat.”
She let out a long, frustrated sigh, but the sound didn’t irritate Zane like it should; instead, it relaxed him. And man, either he was seriously losing it, or all those drugs had finally fried his gray matter. Because lying next to his archenemy, feeling her heat, and smelling her soft, arousing scent, he suddenly wasn’t focused on revenge. Losing himself in all her softness sounded a hell of a lot better. And more fun. And, holy hell, way more fucking erotic.
He just wasn’t sure what to do about it.
The sound of metal scraping metal roused Olivia Wolfe from a restless sleep.
Pushing up on aching muscles, she looked toward the sound. Bright light blinded her, and she lifted a hand to shield her eyes.
“Wh-who’s there?” she asked in a voice rough from screams that had gone unanswered.
A silhouette moved in front of the light, but she couldn’t make out more than fuzzy shapes, light and darkness. Fresh air seeped into the blackness around her, and she drew it in, afraid it might be her last breath.
“Shh,” a voice said softly. A familiar voice. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Terror consumed Olivia, and she scooted back until her spine hit the cold metal wall.
“It’s just food,” the voice—the male voice—said in the same easy tone. “You need to eat.”
A scraping sound echoed, and nerves humming, Olivia looked down at the metal plate he scooted across the floor.
Her gaze darted up to where he was kneeling, feet from her, but she couldn’t make out more than shadows. “Eat,” he said softly.
The scent finally hit her. Not filth and metal and mildew like she’d been living with these last few hours—or had it been days already? She had no concept of time—the smell was of something sweet and rich and cheesy.
Her stomach rumbled. She grasped the plate and pulled it toward her. She hadn’t eaten since dinner with Karl. And she’d been so repulsed by the amount of grease the awful Mexican restaurant had cooked everything in that she’d barely eaten then. Not that Karl’s company had been a whole lot better, but what did she expect, going out with a chemistry teacher?
Carefully, she scooped two fingers into the food and lifted it to her nose. She sniffed, and when the smell didn’t repulse her, she brought it to her lips. Then groaned at the taste. Pasta. Some kind of cheesy, tomatoey dish. She swallowed a mouthful and went back for more. She didn’t even care that it wasn’t something she’d normally eat. It was hot and fresh, and right now it tasted like heaven.
She downed the entire plate like a starving animal before her brain kicked over from nourishment to wondering where Karl was and what he was doing. Surely he had to have told someone what had happened when he’d dropped her off at her house. Surely the authorities had to be looking for her right this very minute.
Her captor chuckled, and the sound was like ice, drenching her heart and soul and mind. She swallowed the last bite and looked up. The plate rattled against her broken fingernails.
“Be sure to drink.” He set a plastic jug of water on the floor, then pushed himself to his feet. “We don’t want you getting dehydrated. It’s almost over. Just hold on a little longer.”
He backed out the way he’d come, and then the metal hinges groaned and the door slammed shut with a crack that shook the entire room.
Silence and utter blackness swirled around Olivia like a vortex. Her stomach rolled, and the food she’d just eaten felt like a mound of lead in her gut. Pushi
ng the plate away, she tugged her legs up, wrapped her arms around her head, and leaned against the corner of the cold room while she fought the rush of tears suddenly choking off her air supply. She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know who was doing this to her or why. And she had no idea how long she’d be here or if she’d ever break free. All she knew was that she was alone.
Alone and tired and cold and afraid. And there was no one to hear her scream.
Okay, enough was enough. Eve cut her gaze toward Archer in the dim bedroom and clenched her jaw.
The bastard had fallen asleep like he didn’t have a care in the world while she sat here fuming and wishing she had a hatchet so she could chop off his arm and get away from all his manly heat.
Anger simmered under her skin as she watched light from the window fall over his bare muscular torso, his bandaged shoulder, and his scruffy jawline. His hair was a rumpled mess, his face tipped her way on the pillow. Moonlight made his eyelashes look longer and his lips too damn kissable.
She didn’t want to kiss him, dammit. She wanted to get the hell away from him. Her gaze strayed to the hand of his bad arm resting against his chiseled stomach, then to his jeans, riding entirely too low for her taste right now. Warmth bloomed in her stomach and trickled between her legs. Even in the dim light, she could see the hollow of his hip bones and that dark patch of hair leading south like a giant arrow.
She blew out a frustrated breath that lifted her bangs. She so didn’t need this. His body heat was already doing a number on her libido. And having to look at that—at something she’d swear was photoshopped if she wasn’t staring at it in the flesh? So not what she deserved right now.
Escape. She needed to think about getting away from him before things got out of control.
She looked back down at the plastic zip tie around her wrist and twisted until pain shot up her arm for the hundredth time. Fucking Archer . . .
A thought hit, and she glanced toward the nightstand. It was a long shot, considering this was a rental, but maybe the last person who’d stayed here had left something in the top drawer that would help her.
She tried the one on her side of the bed first, reaching carefully away with her free arm so as not to rouse him. When she found the drawer empty, she sighed in disappointment, then scooted back to the middle of the bed. She glanced past him toward the nightstand on his side. One look told her he was still sound asleep, his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. She bit her lip, slowly—carefully—rolled onto her side, and pushed her weight on one knee.
Her hand, connected to his, landed against the mattress down by her leg. She couldn’t lift it any higher for fear of waking him. Balancing her weight on one knee and wrist, she slowly straddled his hips, then pressed her other hand against the pillow near his head.
That heat intensified, and his scent drifted in, making her light-headed, reminding her of the dozens of other times she’d straddled him like this. In the middle of the night. Silent so Carter wouldn’t hear them. Naked.
She closed her eyes and fought back the wicked burst of arousal coursing through her veins. Escape. She needed to focus on escaping and not the X-rated sex she suddenly wanted to have with the man between her legs.
Quietly, she reached for the drawer on the nightstand. Her fingertips grazed the knob, but she couldn’t quite pull it open. Gritting her teeth, she shifted her weight to the knee closer to the side of the bed and leaned a little more.
Her fingers wrapped around the drawer, and she tugged it open. The wood creaked, and she stilled, holding her breath as she looked down to see if it had awoken him. But his eyes were still tightly shut, his head still tipped away, and his chest still rose and fell with his deep breaths.
Relaxing, she reached inside the drawer and felt around. Then cursed her stupid luck when she found the drawer empty.
This so wasn’t her day. Wasn’t her year either, apparently.
Frustrated, she closed the drawer and then shifted her hand back to the mattress and looked down at Zane. Just her luck he was hotter than he’d ever been. The bastard. She didn’t doubt he’d gotten better looking on purpose, just to irritate her.
She shifted to push off him, when she felt something hard in the pocket of his jeans. Curious, she leaned her weight back on her knees and placed her free hand over the object. Then nearly jumped for joy when she realized it was a pocketknife.
Her pulse sped up. Maybe her luck wasn’t so bad after all.
Watching his face, she leaned forward and slid her fingertips into his pocket, moving slowly. When he grunted and rolled his head to the other direction, Eve went still as stone. Her heart hammered hard while she waited to see what he’d do. Long seconds passed, and his breathing lengthened once more. Blowing out a breath of relief, she slid her hand deeper into his pocket and wrapped her fingers around the metal object.
His hand landing against her bare thigh stopped her cold. “Hm. Like that.”
Adrenaline pumped through her body, and perspiration broke out on her forehead. She pulled her hand free of his pocket and placed it back on the pillow next to his head. “Um . . . I . . .” She swallowed. “I was just . . .”
His other hand—the one still joined with hers—landed against her other thigh. And heat sparked from the spot and spread straight between her legs.
“Mm . . .” He wrapped his big hands around her hips and squeezed, then forcefully dragged her down to meet his body. “Was dreaming about this.”
Oh holy hell. He was hot. And fully aroused. She bit her lip and reached for his hands to try to pry them away. But they were like steel, holding her in place. Then he lifted his hips and rubbed that massive erection across her already-swollen clit, and pleasure ripped through her pelvis and sent a shudder through her entire body.
Her eyes slid closed. She groaned. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from arching into him. His free hand slid up to her breast and squeezed. And she felt all common sense slipping away. Felt her resistance wavering with every rub and tug and sinful grind.
This was why she needed to get away from him. Not just for his own damn safety, but because when she was close to him, she couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t rationalize things. And when he touched her like he’d done before, like—God help her—he was doing now, she lost all ability to focus on the job at hand and gave in to temptation.
“Mm . . .” he mumbled as he pressed himself against her. “Want to taste you.”
Oh God. She wanted that too. Knew she shouldn’t but couldn’t seem to stop herself.
Her body fell forward. Her weight landed on her hand near his head. The movement caused his heavenly erection to press against her clit from a new angle, sending tiny sparks of electricity all through her lower body. His free hand slid from her breast, up her neck, and into her hair. Then his fingers tightened on her scalp, and he dragged her mouth to his.
His tongue pushed past her lips and into her mouth. Slick. Hot. So very wet. She opened for him, drew him deeper. His plump, scrumptious lips moved over hers just like she remembered. His tongue flicked again and again, tasting her everywhere. Between her legs, he lifted and lowered, mimicking what he was doing to her mouth with his tongue. What she desperately wanted him to do to her body with his hard, thick cock.
“Zane . . .” she mouthed against him.
His other hand slid across her lower back, dragging her arm with it, and she found herself trapped—one hand locked behind her and one barely holding her up. But she suddenly didn’t care. She was teetering on the edge of losing control. And it felt good. So incredibly good after all her carefully constructed years of never losing her cool. Of never letting anyone tempt her. Of never giving herself over completely.
His palm spread, and he pushed down against her while lifting his hips at the same time. His thick erection rubbed again and again at the growing wetness between her legs.
“Want you,” he mumbled. “Don’t want to wait.”
Sh
e didn’t want to wait either. She’d forgotten how good he tasted. How heavenly he felt. How he could light her up with just one wicked touch. One stolen kiss. One forbidden brush of skin against sweaty skin.
“I . . . Zane . . .”
She couldn’t hold back any longer. She gave in and kissed him, licked into his mouth, and ground herself against him. And he groaned against her lips, tightened his arm around her back, and lifted until sweet, heavenly pleasure streaked down her spine. She pulled her mouth from his and moaned. And oh, she was close. So close. If he just rubbed a little more, right there . . .
“Shh,” he mouthed against her lips. “Don’t want to . . . wake Carter.”
Her stomach tightened, and between her legs, the sparks sputtered. She glanced down at his half-lidded eyes and the dazed look and realized that he was dreaming. Caught in that semiconscious drugged state when your body reacts but your mind hasn’t quite caught up. He didn’t know this was happening now. He was reliving something they’d done a dozen times in the middle of the night back then.
The heat in her veins iced. He rubbed against her, groaned into her neck. His hot breath washed over her skin, but the pleasure was gone for her, replaced with a tingly prickling feeling that exploded all along her back. One she didn’t like.
The need to run overwhelmed her. This time not for his safety, but her own. She was in too deep with him. Losing not only her common sense, but her identity—everything that mattered. The longer she stayed with him, the harder it would be for her to pull away. And she needed to pull away now, because he clearly wasn’t feeling anything for her like she’d stupidly been feeling for him. And that made her the biggest fool of all.
She lifted her arm from the mattress and scooted back, just enough so she could reach into his pocket. His cock was hard against her fingers, and she swallowed, even as he ground that erection against her clit again. Tiny threads of arousal speared through her, tempting her all over again, but she fought them. Pulling her hand free, she quietly rejoiced when she drew out the pocketknife and her key to freedom.
Extreme Measures Page 8
