Uncut Bundle

by Susan Stephens

  The crest of the wave grew higher and higher. She was frantic to ride it to shore but Matthew wouldn’t let her. She begged for him to end it and, at last, he did, crying out with her as she came apart and shattered in his arms.

  She collapsed against him, weeping with joy, with despair, with so many emotions they threatened to destroy her.

  Matthew held her close, his heart racing against hers.

  “Mia,” he said softly, but she shook her head.

  She wasn’t going to think about anything. Not now.

  Instead she kissed his mouth, then fell asleep safe in his arms.

  She awoke as the moon was setting.

  Only the faintest light seeped into the room. Beyond the massive bed, the balcony door stood open to the soft whispers of the forest and the night.

  Matthew had rolled onto his belly. He lay with one arm wound around her waist; his thigh was draped across hers. His breath was soft on her throat and his silky hair tickled her cheek.

  Mia closed her eyes.

  She thought of what had happened in his bed. Of how she’d given herself to him, again and again.

  Oh God, she thought. God, what’s happened to me?

  The wildness of her passion stunned her. She’d never been like this. Never.

  She thought of the two lovers in her past. Two very nice, very normal men, one studying to be a teacher, the other a lawyer with an office and a nine-to-five existence.

  She’d known all there was to know about them both. Where they lived. What books they read, what music they listened to. She knew so much about them that when she’d finally slept with them, nothing, not even the sex, had seemed new.

  What she’d done with Matthew, the sex…

  Her breath hitched. The truth was, she’d never even had an orgasm until tonight.

  Everything she’d done with Matthew was new and exciting and dangerous, just as he was dangerous.

  He was a beautiful animal, wild and incapable of being tamed.

  She couldn’t picture him in captivity, trapped behind a desk in the nine-to-five world.

  He’d spent most of his life as a soldier, he’d said, but she couldn’t even see him in that role, wearing a pressed uniform, marching in lock-step, taking orders and saluting.

  This was who Matthew Knight was.

  A man who’d abduct a woman. Strip search her. Force her to do his bidding. Except—except, he hadn’t forced her to come apart at his touch. He hadn’t forced her to do anything in bed.

  She’d been a willing participant, exchanging caress for caress and kiss for kiss. It made her blush to think of the things she’d done, the way she’d pleaded for him to drive deep into her as he took her on a journey she’d never made before.

  A knot of fear lodged in her belly.

  She’d slept with a stranger. Done things she wished she could forget. And the only thing she really knew about him was that he’d been sent to bring her back to certain death at the hands of his employer…

  Or do the job himself.

  The chill in her belly turned to ice.

  She checked Matthew again. He was still sleeping. He looked peaceful—and beautiful. His face, his body. He was a dark angel and yet, his touch could be tender, his mouth sweet.

  One final caress, she thought, her heart pounding with the urgency of it, one last whisper of her lips against his…

  No! She had her sanity back. Was she going to toss it away again?

  Holding her breath, Mia moved out from under his arm. Straightened her leg until it slid from beneath his. She sat up, pushed back the light duvet Matthew had drawn up over them.

  Carefully, quietly, she slipped from the bed.

  Where were her clothes? In the bathroom. Heat rushed to her face as she remembered Matthew undressing her.

  How he’d forced her to stand naked in front of him.

  How terrible it had been…

  Oh God, how exciting it had been! The way he’d stripped her. Gotten her wet. Removed her bra and panties and then made love to her. She’d never believed sex could be so powerful.

  Was that why she was running? To save her life…or to save her soul? To get away from a man who might hurt her, or to escape what he’d taught her about herself? About sensuality, and what it was like to be stroked until you purred.

  A year ago, she’d led such a normal life. Get up, get dressed, go to her job as secretary in a dreary government office that dealt in Intelligence but was really all about mind-boggling statistics.

  But “normal” and “dreary” were fine with her. Her childhood had been neither. Her father had been a gambler, her mother was always sickly…

  She closed her eyes.

  The truth was, her mother was an alcoholic. Growing up, she’d never known what the next day would bring. She’d longed for a quiet, predictable life and she’d found one.

  And then, one morning, her boss said she was wanted on the sixteenth floor. Take the freight elevator, he’d said. Mia thought that was strange but she did as he’d instructed, and stepped into a world she hadn’t known existed.

  It was a world called the Agency.

  A woman in a black silk suit greeted her, led her down the hall to an enormous office and introduced her to a man she addressed as the Director.

  The Director made small talk for a few minutes. Then his expression turned grave.

  Ms. Palmieri, he’d said, you worked for Colonel Douglas Hamilton for the year he was stationed here, in Washington.

  Yes, she’d said, that’s right, I did.

  According to our records, Colonel Hamilton was very pleased with you.

  With my work? she’d said, because the truth was, Hamilton hadn’t been happy with other things, like the way she’d avoided working late at night because something in the way he looked at her made her uncomfortable. Yes, she’d replied, I believe he was.

  The Director had leaned forward.

  Ms. Palmieri, he’d said, I’m going to offer you an opportunity to serve your country.

  Mia shuddered.

  But her country hadn’t served her. She’d discovered she was expendable. The man she’d slept with was the final proof. And she’d slept with him. Made love with him…

  Sex. Not love. Sex. She didn’t know why the distinction was important, but it was.

  Her small overnight bag was on the chair but she wasn’t going to risk waking Matthew by rustling through it. For all she knew, he was a light sleeper.

  His closet took up an entire wall. She held her breath as she slid the doors open, but he didn’t stir. Clothing was neatly folded on shelves. She pulled on a T-shirt and sweatpants, then rolled them to her knees.

  She’d have to do without shoes.

  Barely breathing, clutching the suitcase and her purse, she tiptoed from the room. Down the endless hall. Into the foyer. The front door was just ahead. Was the alarm really rigged to sound even if you were leaving the house? She had to hope not. Otherwise, she’d have to pray she reached the SUV before Matthew came running.

  He’d left his keys on a small table near the door. The floor was cool under her feet as she went to it and ran her hand over the surface.

  No keys. But that was impossible. She felt along the top of the table again. Still nothing. How could that be? She was sure she’d seen him drop the—

  The hundreds of crystal prisms in the foyer’s grand chandelier blazed to life. Mia cried out, threw up her hand to shade her eyes from its bright glare…

  And saw Matthew, half a dozen feet away, wearing only a pair of unzipped jeans, leaning back against the wall with a look on his face that reminded her of how dangerous he actually was.

  “Is this what you’re looking for, baby?” he said coldly.

  The keys dangled from the fingers of his raised hand.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HE’D TAKEN her by surprise.

  Good. That was exactly what he wanted.

  Long moments ago, when he’d awakened to find Mia stirring beside him, his
reaction had been instantaneous.

  Male, and instantaneous. Even after making love to her twice, he awoke hard and eager to take her again.

  He knew that didn’t make sense. She was his prisoner. She was a thief. She dealt in drugs.

  All another man had done was ask him to find her.

  But he wanted her. Making love with her hadn’t ended his hunger, it had only increased it.

  There were so many things they hadn’t done. Things he wanted to do while he watched her face. He wanted to go more slowly, kiss his way down her body, seek out all the shadowed parts of her and explore them.

  Crazy as it seemed, making love with Mia had been different. She’d been innocent and abandoned, tender and wild, and in those last minutes of his possession, when she began to tremble beneath him, he’d felt as if he were standing on the edge of the universe.

  No. None of it made sense, but he was a man of action, not introspect. Why try to figure out what would cause such powerful sexual attraction?

  Living it was all that mattered.

  He’d been on the verge of doing just that a few minutes ago, of drawing her closer and kissing her, but something had stopped him.

  Her caution, maybe.

  She’d held herself as if she were made of glass.

  He’d told himself he was overreacting. She thought he was asleep. She didn’t want to wake him. Maybe she had to go to the bathroom, and she was working up to easing from the bed without disturbing him.

  Wrong.

  When she finally slipped out from under his arm, she didn’t head for the bathroom, she headed for his closet.

  He watched through slitted eyes as she chose a T-shirt and sweatpants and put them on.

  That was when he understood, Mia was getting ready to run away. To leave him.

  He told himself that was a crazy way to label it. He’d taken her captive, brought her here against her will. As she saw it, this was their own war, and a POW’s first obligation was to try to escape.

  All nicely logical, except she wasn’t his prisoner of war anymore. She was—she was—

  Damn it, what was she? A woman he’d taken to bed, that was all. What they’d done was have sex. Nothing more, nothing less—and he’d been a fool to have fallen asleep with her in his arms as if they were lovers instead of tying her up, the way he’d planned.

  She’d let him seduce her. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe it had all been deliberate. She’d wanted him off his guard and he, fool that he was, had obliged.

  And yet—and yet, even when he’d followed her down the hall, some foolish part of him had been hoping she’d just gone for a glass of water. A cup of tea.

  Sure, he thought grimly, seeing the look of horror on her face as she saw him, of course. A woman would definitely go for a glass of water with her overnight case in her hand.

  “Matthew.” She gave a little laugh. “You’re awake.”

  He didn’t answer. He saw her throat constrict as she swallowed.

  “I was just—I was just—”

  “I know what you were ‘just,’” he said coldly, waggling the keys. “You were just looking for these.”

  Her eyes flicked away from his. “No. I wasn’t. Why would I—”

  She gasped and fell back as he came toward her; she hit the wall and he caught her by the shoulders.

  “I don’t know, baby. You tell me.”

  “I—I was looking for—for my purse. I thought I’d left it on—on the table, and—”

  “That purse?” he said silkily. “The one hanging from your shoulder?”

  She stared at him. “Look. I know how this seems, but—”

  “How does it seem, Mia? You tell me.”

  “There’s a simple explanation. If you give me a minute, I—” She cried out as he lifted her to her toes. “Matthew. You’re hurting me.”

  “Isn’t it usually the guy who’s accused of ‘slam, bam, thank you, ma’am’?”

  Her cheeks colored. “That’s vulgar.”

  “And we wouldn’t want to be vulgar, would we?” His mouth thinned. “I mean, that sure as hell wouldn’t suit the kind of woman who screws a man in hopes it’ll make him careless.”

  “You’re disgusting!”

  “I’m just telling it like it is. We went to bed together, you screwed my brains out—”

  Her hand flew through the air and struck his cheek with enough force to make his head snap back. Matthew grabbed her wrist, dragged her arm behind her back and pulled her tightly against him.

  “You like to play rough? Hell, baby, I’m into that if you are.”

  “Let go of me!”

  “Sure. Once I’ve got you someplace nice and safe.”

  He started back down the hall, half dragging her along beside him, propelled her into the bedroom and hit a wall switch that turned on the lights. Then he grabbed her suitcase and purse and shoved her toward the bed.

  He could see the terror in her eyes. Good, he thought viciously. She damned well should be terrified.

  “Get on the bed.”

  “Please. Matthew—”

  “On the bed,” he barked. She scrambled into the middle of the mattress, as if putting a few inches of distance between them would keep her safe. “One move,” he said, pointing his finger at her, “just one, and you’ll regret it.”

  “If you’d just listen—”

  “You give me two seconds of trouble, I’ll lock you in the safe room.” His smile was thin and cold. “After I empty it of weapons, of course, then lock it, permanently, from the outside. And then, who knows, baby? I might just forget I put you there.”

  Mia ran to the balcony door as he strode from the room. It was locked. She didn’t see a key or a bolt but the door was locked.

  “Open,” she said, pulling at the knob with both hands. “Damn you, open—”

  She shrieked as Matthew’s arms closed around her. He carried her back to the bed, dumped her on it and tossed a pair of handcuffs on the nightstand.

  A sob burst from her throat. “No. Matthew—”

  “Lie down and hold your hands above your head.”

  “Matthew. I implore you. Whatever Douglas told you—”

  His head came up. She had never seen eyes as empty as his.

  “Yeah,” he said softly, “that’s the problem, isn’t it? I forgot what old Dougie told me about you and your little games.”

  “It isn’t true. I never—”

  “Never played all your bedroom tricks on him? Do us both a favor, baby. Don’t bother lying. I know all about it.” His jaw tightened. “It’s too bad I didn’t remember sooner, but you’re good, I have to give you that.” He picked up the cuffs. The harsh light glinted off their bright silver surface. “Hands,” he barked.

  She didn’t move. Matthew cursed, grabbed her left wrist, braceleted it with steel, brought it behind the bedpost and did the same to her right. The ratcheting sound of the cuffs closing was like a prison door slamming shut.

  “Matthew.” Tears were streaming down Mia’s face. “Matthew, I swear—”

  Grimly he pulled her hands over her head, looped the rope through the cuffs and secured it to the bedpost. He gave the rope a tug and nodded his approval.

  “That’ll do it.”

  The sensation of being tied, of having her arms fixed above her head, was terrifying. Mia began to weep as he went to the bedroom door and shut it.

  “Matthew,” she sobbed as he strode toward her, “please, please, please!”

  He stripped off his jeans. He was aroused and erect, and he didn’t give a damn if she saw it.

  Hell, he wanted her to see it.

  Let her fear him. Let her.

  She shrank away as he climbed onto the bed beside her.

  “Don’t,” she whispered.

  “Don’t what?” he said coldly. “Don’t do this?”

  Eyes locked to hers, he reached out, cupped her breast, let his hand drift down her torso, then slipped it between her thighs.


  She moaned. Not as she’d moaned for him earlier. Not with desire. She moaned with fear.

  That was fine with him.

  “Keep quiet,” he said, hitting the light switch near the bed and plunging the room into darkness. “Or I’ll tape your mouth shut.”