He drew a deep breath quickly, lifting her up so fast she hugged her right arm to him out of instinct to maintain balance.
Not the message she wanted to send him, so she pushed up with the same hand to get away.
That’s when she realized she had a cloth wrapped around her right wrist. When she jerked her right hand up to inspect it, he scowled. Her wrist jangled.
“Wait a minute.” He grabbed her wrist with his left hand.
“You”-Gabrielle leaned her elbow on his chest, enjoying the grunt-“handcuffed me to you? Let me go.” She jerked away, but couldn’t get leverage from her position.
He rolled her over swiftly, pinning her with his body.
Any humor or concern had vanished. The black gaze raking her now stunned her into silence. Here was the man who had killed without hesitation yesterday.
“Don’t start this morning fighting me or today won’t go much better than yesterday,” he warned in a voice rough from deep sleep.
Think. Say something to back him off. She couldn’t process a thing with him so close. His eyes blazed with a different heat all of a sudden. The look was so charged with arousal her hormones went on alert for an early morning treat.
Now she was the one not thinking like a prisoner.
Carlos studied her with intense interest that left her feeling he could see right into her mind, then his gaze relaxed. He asked in a gentler voice, “How can you be afraid of me after yesterday?”
She worked on breathing steadily, in, out, in, out. When was the last time she’d been this close to a man in bed? Anywhere? One so overtly sexual she didn’t think he could prevent it. She swallowed, preparing to ask him, nicely, to let her up.
He must have misread the action and thought she still feared him when he lowered his head, those chiseled lips so close she could taste them. “Truce, remember?”
He kissed her.
The man had kissing down. He could give lessons. She’d sign up for an ongoing program. His mouth played across hers softly, teasing, then paused and sealed her lips with his. She sensed him holding back, then raw, masculine heat poured through the kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth, moving with slow erotic motions that sent a wave of lust spiraling down to pool between her legs.
His fingers drove into her hair, holding her.
She shivered and clenched with the raging need for more.
Years of hiding and loneliness interfered with the message from her brain warning her to stop now.
With her hands free, she reached for his shoulders to pull him closer.
One hand made it. The other slapped back to the bed, still handcuffed to his wrist. That broke through her erotic haze.
She stopped kissing, priding herself on that one feat since her lips didn’t want to leave a mouth like his.
“Let. Me. Up,” she demanded through clenched teeth, trying to regain some self-respect. She twisted her body back and forth to make it clear she meant now.
He scowled a curse, which she figured out a bit late. Moving her hips with their bodies so close had the opposite effect of what she’d intended.
His legs were on each side of hers, locking her into place. The only barrier between where their hips met was her lace underwear and his shorts.
And one impressive hard-on.
She was in no mood to be impressed right now. Her heart thumped so hard the beat should have been echoing off the walls, but she would not feed his ego by letting on how much he affected her. “Get off me.”
A weary sigh rushed out of him on another mint-flavored breath. He eased up on his elbows and knees, but kept her legs locked between his.
“Calm down.” His eyelids lowered in a droll frown. “I am not interested in taking advantage of you. I had to handcuff you to something last night. You kept sleeping on your stomach so I cuffed your right hand to my left hand but you scratched the hell out of me-twice-when you crawled up on my chest.”
She lowered her gaze to his shoulder and saw two red marks that disappeared inside the gray tank top he wore, then lifted her eyes to his. I am not apologizing.
“So I finally uncuffed you and waited for you to settle down in one spot before I cuffed us again.”
When she didn’t say a word, he snapped, “You picked the spot, not me.”
She shouldn’t feel embarrassed for climbing all over him, but couldn’t convince herself to take it in stride. He sounded put upon to wake up with her wrapped over him when it was just as much his fault as hers. She’d slept alone for so long she was used to having the entire bed at night and normally ended up on top of a big pillow.
Besides, she stung from how he was “not interested” in her body. He could have just said he’d kept his hands to himself. She knew she didn’t have some buff body.
“Don’t kick, hit, bite, or do anything else and I’ll uncuff you. Agreed?” He’d issued that offer as an order.
She nodded.
He just shook his head and reached over to the nightstand, returning with a key. He unlocked his wrist first. She noticed a red welt where he hadn’t wrapped his wrist protectively.
Her wrist was fine since he’d wound soft jersey material around it, taping the material in place. Or had he done that because her wrist was narrow and he thought she might slip out of the cuff during the night?
That made more sense.
She was his prisoner, not a kinky date.
The minute she was free, Gabrielle scrambled off the bed to stand.
He was still crouched on the bed. His gaze swam across her from head to toe. What was he thinking?
“The bathroom is over there.” He nodded to the left. “Get in there. I’ll bring your clothes.”
She went rigid at the disgust in his voice. As if he couldn’t stand the sight of her.
“Move. Now!”
Gabrielle stumbled trying to hurry to the bathroom, but caught her balance. His curse followed her into the room so she slammed the door. Childish, but it still felt good.
Her body was far from perfect, but he didn’t have to act so revolted that he ordered her to get out of his sight. She should be cheered by his lack of interest, not insulted.
The bugger was probably angry she realized he’d become excited lying on her. She refused to feel bad about her body. Other men had found her attractive.
One anyhow. A jerk.
Gabrielle shook her head at the direction of her thoughts. She was a prisoner with more problems than wounded vanity. Turning around, she scoped the bathroom, made of stone, teak, and glass. Slate tiles covered the floor and walls of the shower not encased with glass.
The oversize Jacuzzi tub in white marble with pink and gray veins matched the sink counters. Taupe and gray tiles covered the walls not hidden by teak cabinets.
And a wide-screen television monitor.
Someone with money ran this operation. Who, and what did they want? Trepidation shivered over her skin. Her gaze landed on her backpack, sitting next to the base of the cabinets.
What about her laptop?
Well, if he’d tried to access anything on it last night, he’d have had a nasty surprise.
Gabrielle gave the possibility of escaping through the bathroom a brief evaluation, but even if she had her laptop in hand, the windows were narrow, horizontal jobs with fixed glass.
She rubbed her arms, scanning the sink counter. A wrapped toothbrush, new toothpaste, shampoo, brush, and anything else she could hope to find had neatly been stacked.
She leaned her hands on the sink, fighting despair. She could do this. Linette needed her to be strong. Gabrielle had to regroup and plan. Going through everyday actions lent a hand to her confidence, but this was not an average day.
Get showered and dressed first. Find her laptop.
Then be ready to run.
