Uncut Bundle

by Susan Stephens

  Matthew brought the SUV to a stop outside the triple doors of the garage. He took the keys from the ignition, found the one for the front door and got out from behind the wheel.

  “End of the line,” he said. “Everybody out.”

  Mia didn’t even blink. She sat, motionless, hands knotted in her lap, eyes straight ahead. Was every step going to be a battle?

  He went around the truck and opened her door.

  “Here’s the deal. You get out and walk, or I pull you out and toss you over my shoulder. Since I’m tired and hungry and generally pissed off, I’m probably not going to be particularly gentle about it but hey, the decision is yours.”

  He almost laughed at the look she gave him, but she wasn’t stupid. She undid her seat belt and started to step down.

  Matthew caught her in his arms.

  “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” he said with a hard smile.

  “Thank you so much for your concern.”

  Her words were like little bee stings, sharp and meant to hurt, but he was coming to expect that kind of toughness from her. The further she got, mentally, from the shock of finding him in her room in that sleazy hotel, the stronger she became.

  He’d have to change that.

  Wasn’t it a good thing he’d discovered the way to do it? he thought, and he gathered her against him and kissed her.

  It wasn’t the kind of kiss a man gives a woman who stirs his heart; it was the kind a man gives a woman he wants to dominate. Matthew held nothing back. Mouth, teeth, tongue…his kiss was savage.

  Mia reacted, as he’d intended, with fear. She twisted in his arms, pounded her fists against his shoulders, but he was relentless, holding her so tightly against him that her struggles only brought her breasts and hips in closer contact with his body.

  Somehow, she managed to free her mouth long enough to gasp for air and then call him a name he’d rarely heard a woman use.

  The oath was still on her lips when he crushed her mouth beneath his again. When he ended the kiss, it was only so he could cup her face, tilt it to him, look into those dark brown eyes and see what he wanted there, her despair and her capitulation.

  What he saw in her eyes were the tears of a frightened woman.

  Good, he thought savagely. That was the way he wanted her. Scared. Helpless. Ready to tell him everything he needed to know…

  And then he stopped thinking and kissed her again. Gently. Softly…

  In a heartbeat, everything changed.

  Mia began to tremble, but in a way he understood. She clasped his shoulders and rose toward him, her lips yielding to the light pressure of his. She made that sound, the one that had almost driven him to his knees the last time, and let him inside the velvet warmth of her mouth.

  And he was lost.

  Lost in her heat. Her sweetness. In the feeling that they were alone on the planet, that nothing mattered but this. Nothing but this. This…

  Matthew tore his mouth from hers.

  Jesus, what was he doing?

  He clasped her shoulders. Pushed her away, his breathing as ragged as if he’d run a mile, and let fly with the rage he felt at her for trying to seduce him, at himself for being such a damned easy mark.

  “You keep offering,” he said, his voice low and flat, “and, sooner or later, baby, I’m going to accept.” Her face whitened and he caught her chin and forced her head up until her eyes met his. “You’re playing with fire, little girl. If you get burned, don’t blame me.”

  Mia followed her captor into the house as obediently as a leashed dog.

  Not that she had a choice.

  He had a grip on her wrist that would have made her cry out, except she’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction.

  He was on to her. Evidently she wasn’t as good at seducing a man as she’d hoped. One kiss, and he’d known what she was doing…

  And wasn’t it a good thing that one of them did?

  Because—because the ugly truth was, she’d gone from fighting him to wanting him in a heartbeat. Her reaction hadn’t been planned. It had just happened. His mouth had felt so tender. He’d tasted so good. Clean and masculine and—and, okay, if she was going for honesty, even when he’d been forcing his kisses on her, even as she’d fought him….

  Even then, she’d wanted him.

  She’d felt as if her entire body was on fire, a need and a heat blazing in her belly, in her breasts, that she’d never known before. She’d wanted him to carry her into the house, back her against the wall and take her and take her until she was sobbing his name…

  “…coffee?”

  She blinked in confusion. She’d only caught the end of whatever he’d said. Had it required an answer?

  She moistened her lips. “I didn’t—I didn’t hear you.”

  “I said, there’s a kitchen down the hall. Do you know how to make coffee, or does your usefulness begin and end in bed?”

  For the second time in just a few hours, she wanted to rush at him and gouge runnels in his face, pound him with her fists—but she knew how pointless that would be. He was too big, too powerful, and he’d probably end up laughing at her.

  Still, she was grateful for what he’d just said. It was the perfect reminder that her sexual fantasies about this unfeeling son of a bitch were sick.

  “Actually, I could use a cup of coffee. Show me where the kitchen is and I’ll make some. Then, if you’re very lucky, there might be enough left for you.”

  His mouth twitched. How nice, she thought coldly. She was providing comic relief.

  “Down that hall. To the right. The coffee’s in the freezer, the sugar’s in the cupboard along with a couple of boxes of long-lasting milk.”

  “Fine. Oh, one last thing.” She smiled sweetly. “Where do you keep the rat poison? I’d hate to keep you waiting while I search for it.”

  His eyes narrowed into green slits. “Keep it up,” he said softly. “See just how far you can push before I reach overload.”

  The thought of him on overload sent a chill down her spine but she kept the phony smile on her lips.

  “I’m sure I’ll be able to tell before that happens. The smoke rising from your circuit-boards will be a dead giveaway.”

  It was a good line and she made her exit on it, the spot between her shoulder blades tingling in expectation that he’d come after her, but he didn’t. She even thought she heard him laugh, but that had to be a mistake.

  She found the kitchen easily enough, a big, bright room loaded with shiny stainless-steel appliances and enough gadgets to satisfy any man’s soul. The coffee was where he’d said it would be, as were the sugar and milk.

  Whose house was this? she wondered as the coffee dripped slowly through the filter. She went to the sliding glass doors that led out to a large deck surrounded by flowering shrubs in a riot of colors.

  A place this beautiful wouldn’t belong to a man who was a killer. But that’s what Matthew Knight was. He’d brought her here so they could be alone. So he could do whatever he figured it would take to wring the truth from her.

  Mia shuddered.

  What was she doing, making coffee? He’d left her alone. All that stood between her and freedom was a glass door…

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  She whirled around. He was right behind her. How could a man his size move so quietly?

  “The doors and windows are all on a security circuit. Touch one and they all lock, and enough sirens go off so that there wouldn’t be a chance in hell you could evade me.” His smile was quick and sharp. “In other words, you’re trapped.”

  Trapped. The word was terrifying, but she’d be damned if she’d let him know it. She turned away from him and reached for the coffeepot.

  “I’m impressed,” she said, as if she actually gave a damn. “A high-tech security systems, all this land… Who owns this place?”

  “I do.”

  Her surprise must have shown on her face.

  “Want to see
the deed? It’s mine, baby. Lock, stock and barrel.”

  “Don’t call me that. And why are we here?”

  “I told you. For the peace and—”

  “Damn it,” Mia said, the words tumbling from her lips without plan, “stop toying with me! Whatever it is you’re going to do, just—just do it and get it over with.”

  The careful mask she’d worn had slipped. Matthew heard fear in her voice and saw it in her eyes. She thought he was going to hurt her unless she came clean.

  For one crazy minute, he came close to taking her in his arms and telling her that no matter what she’d done, he wouldn’t hurt her. Wouldn’t let anyone else hurt her…

  But the insanity passed.

  She was dealing in drugs.

  She was another man’s woman.

  Nothing about her was any good, except for the feel of her in his arms. The taste of her against his lips.

  Just the thought of her in Hamilton’s arms, in his bed…

  He shut his eyes. Forced himself to take a couple of cleansing breaths.

  “We’ll talk later,” he said. “Right now, I want dinner.”

  “Talk?” Her voice rose. “Talk? Is that what you want me to believe? That you brought me here to have a nice, civilized conversation?”

  He was on her in an instant, dragging her against him, claiming her mouth with his and savagely slipping his hand under her T-shirt to cup her breast.

  “Nothing I feel about you is civilized,” he said roughly. “And I don’t like it. You got that? I’m fed up with you trying to play me for a fool, Mia. Stop it before you force me to do something about it.”

  “Don’t,” she said, her voice high and breathless.

  “Don’t what?” He shoved his hand under her bra; she gasped as his fingers closed on her nipple. “Don’t do this?” His fingers moved, moved again, and she tried to choke back the cry that rose in her throat but he heard it and exulted in it. “I want you, goddammit,” he growled. “And you want me.”

  “No! I don’t. I don’t!”

  He cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, and kissed her without mercy until, at last, she surrendered, to him and to herself, sobbing his name against his mouth.

  “Matthew,” she whispered, “oh, Matthew…”

  It was the first time she’d spoken his name, and the sound of it on her lips echoed in his blood.

  Nobody had ever said his name the way she did.

  “Again. Say it again.” When she didn’t, he kissed her, hard, hard enough to taste the warm saltiness of blood. Hers or his, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was her scent, her touch, her taste. “Damn you,” he growled, “say my name.”

  “Matthew,” she whispered, “Matthew, Matthew…”

  She was coming apart in his arms. Kissing him, sucking his tongue into her mouth, her hands up under his shirt, moving on his skin.

  He pushed her back against the counter. Grabbed the neckline of her shirt and ripped it to the hem. Then he bent his head, bit lightly at a cotton-covered nipple and when she groaned, he bit it again.

  It wasn’t enough. He needed the sweet taste of her naked breast. He raised his head, took her mouth with his, fumbled with the clasp of her bra, snarled and tore it in half.

  Her breasts were beautiful. Round as apples and the color of richest cream. He wanted to feast his eyes on her but not now. Not now, when he could take a delicate pink nipple in his mouth, suck it, lave it until it glistened.

  Ah, the incredible taste of her! She was wildflowers and honey against his tongue.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, cupping her breasts, tonguing one taut bud and then the other before drawing each deep into the heat of his mouth. “I’ve never wanted a woman as I want you.”

  She was trembling in his arms. Holding him tight. Moving her hips against his.

  He took her hand and brought it to him, flattening it over his erection.

  On a soft moan, she cupped the denim that strained across his swollen flesh. For one terrible second, he was afraid he was going to come just from that touch, from that female whimper of desire.

  “Matthew,” she said desperately, “please…”

  Her knees buckled and she collapsed in his embrace. He swung her up into his arms and took her mouth again, biting into her bottom lip, savoring her taste even as slid his hand down her thigh, into that sweet, secret place between her legs.

  He tore his mouth from hers and looked into her eyes, clouded with passion.

  “Tell me,” he said thickly.

  Her lips parted but the words he needed to hear didn’t come. In some microscopic, still-reasoning part of his brain he understood the reason. She knew this was insane, knew it shouldn’t be happening…

  “Tell me,” he demanded.

  A tremor went through her. She put her hand against his cheek. “Please,” she whispered, “Matthew, please… Take me to bed.”

  Pure male triumph filled his veins. He started from the room and Mia looped her hands behind his neck. She tried to bury her hot face in his shoulder but he wouldn’t let her.

  He kissed her instead, kissed her until their mouths were fused in passion.

  And, right at that second, the security alarm went off.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE SHRIEK of the alarm shocked Mia into reality.

  She struggled against Matthew’s embrace. Instead of putting her down, his arms tightened around her and he moved quickly down the hall, into a room lined with bookcases.

  A touch of his hand and one section slid away, revealing a small, lighted room.

  He put her on her feet.

  “There’s a button on the wall beside the door. It works the lock from the inside. Hit that button, fast.”

  “But—”

  “No but’s, damn it! Do as you’re told, and do it fast.”

  He pushed her inside the room, reached to the small of his back and pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans.

  “Lock the door.”

  “No. Matthew—”

  He looked at her through the coldest eyes she’d ever seen. “All you are right now is a liability.”

  Without warning, tears rose in her eyes. Matthew’s expression didn’t change but he bent to her and gave her a quick, hard kiss on the mouth.

  “Lock it,” he said, stepping back.

  She pushed the button. The door, as heavy as that of a bank vault, slid shut, cutting her off from the outside world and the shrill of the alarm.

  Unnerving silence settled around her. Mia wrapped her arms around herself. Her teeth were chattering.

  What was happening out there?

  She put her ear to the door and felt the kiss of cold steel against her cheek. All she heard was the pounding beat of her blood in her ears.

  She stepped back.

  What kind of room was this? Door and walls of steel. No windows. An electronic keypad, lights blinking in a crazy-quilt of colors. A clock that showed the time around the world, a bank of built-in TV monitors. Cell phones, what looked like a fax machine, other electronic gadgets she couldn’t identify.

  Cabinets lined two walls. She opened them and saw tins of food, plastic jugs of water, first-aid supplies…

  And weapons.

  Handguns. Automatic rifles. Ammunition.

  All this, in addition to the gun Matthew had pulled. The gun he’d had on him when he was making love to her.

  She began to shake. Why was she surprised? She knew what he was, even if she’d somehow forgotten it for a little while.

  He hadn’t forgotten.

  All you are is a liability.

  Another tremor racked her body. She was cold. Terribly cold. How long would she be trapped in this place? What if something happened to Matthew? The button activated the lock, he’d said, but what if something went wrong? What if it didn’t—

  Something whirred in the wall. Mia whirled and pressed her ear to the door. Could your heart race this hard without bursting?r />
  The whirring sound came again. With agonizing slowness, the door slid open. Matthew stood before her, hands on his hips, eyes unreadable.

  No wounds. No injuries that she could see. It was wrong to feel such relief. Wrong to want to throw herself into his arms—but she was beginning to understand, all too well, the bizarre things stress could do to you in situations like this.