Her cheeks grew redder, but rather than move between his legs, she placed a hand on his leather-clad knee and shoved it toward the other one, closing his legs. She still had to press up against his outer thigh and side of his chest to reach the lock.
“Or you can do it that way,” he said wryly. It was on the tip of his tongue to point out that one of her very full, very perky breasts was still right there in his face, but decided against it.
He didn’t know Cupcake well, but he knew her well enough to know she’d just leave him hanging if she got pissed off.
“How long have I been up here?” he asked, trying not to think about how amazingly tempting that breast was—so close to his face. His mouth.
“I have no idea,” she said absently, focused on undoing the lock. “Don’t even know where we are or who those other people are, for that matter.”
“Other people?” He tried to look around, but his position made it impossible. The deeper meaning of her words hit him and his gaze shifted to her face. “Wait, you mean you don’t remember either?”
Her fingers faltered and her face grew redder, if that were possible. “No.”
He was silent for a moment. “Shit. Not again.”
This time her hands dropped completely from the cuff and she gaped at him, her eyes huge and startlingly blue.
“What do you mean, ‘not again?’”
He gave her a pained look. “Well, this memory loss thing . . . it happened another time, too.”
WAS HE FREAKING kidding? He’d had this happen before? Because Josie Lynn could absolutely assure him this had
And of course it would be the sexy pirate she would wake up with . . . well, sort of with. She was wearing his shirt, so clearly she’d been with him for a least part of the time that she couldn’t remember. Very possibly
She shot a quick glance past him to the couple only a few feet away. Had she also been with that guy? At least she recognized the pirate, but this other guy . . . oh dear God. And the woman. Then she realized another woman lay on the floor, still unconscious. Or at least she hoped the woman was unconscious.
She had to be. Josie Lynn didn’t want to contemplate other alternatives. Nor did she want to think about what they had all done in this room together. What if they’d had an orgy . . . ?
Oh, this could be really bad.
“Okay, you kind of look like you might pass out again,” the pirate said, drawing his attention away from the others. “So could you get me down before you do that?”
Josie Lynn gave him a dirty look. “I love the concern.”
“I assure you, I’m very concerned,” he told her. “But I’m also a little concerned that I have no feeling in my hands, too.”
Begrudgingly, Josie Lynn supposed that was an understandable reason to be worried and set back to getting him unlocked. This time, maybe because she just wanted some answers, then out of here and away from all of these people, she managed to unfasten the locks without too much struggle.
“Thanks,” he said, wincing as he lowered his arms and flexed his fingers.
“So you said this has happened before?” she said, ignoring his gratitude. “How many forgotten orgies have you had, exactly?”
The pirate stopped rotating his shoulder and looked at her. “Whoa now, who said anything about orgies? Why would you think we had an orgy?”
She lifted her hands and looked around the room, ending her tour on him and his lack of attire.
He shrugged. “Okay, I can see where you would conclude something sexual happened last night, but if we all did have a forgotten orgy, it would be my first.”
“So what happened again?”
“I think someone must have drugged us.”
“Drugged us?”
How could he stand there, his penis hanging out for all the world to see, and calmly tell her that he thought they’d been drugged?
“And do you and your friends get drugged often?”
“No,” he said with the same nonchalance. “But it did happen once before.”
Josie Lynn stared at him, trying to stay calm. “And do you know who did it?”
“The first time?”
She nodded slowly, starting to wonder if he could possibly be serious, or if maybe he was just nuts.
“Yeah, we know who did it the first time,” he said, again amazing her with his matter-of-factness. “But I highly doubt he’d do it again. It was an accident.”
Okay, yeah, nuts seemed like the most likely explanation here, but before she got the chance to tell him that, the other man, who thankfully had clothes on, called to him.
So this other guy knew the pirate. And, she realized as she looked closer at both the man and woman, they were handcuffed together.
Of course they were handcuffed together. Yeah, this was effin’ nuts.
LIZETTE WAS HAVING a rather pleasant dream of riding in a hot air balloon over the French countryside after the Parisian World’s Fair back in 1889, when she had the sensation of being tugged, accompanied by an irritating rattling. She wanted to suggest to whoever was creating the ruckus to please cease, but she was alone in the balloon.
Then a scream cut through the air, ripping her balloon and sending her basket plunging to the ground and her certain death.
If she wasn’t a vampire, that is, and if she wasn’t dreaming.
Lizette jerked awake and shot her gaze around the dim room, not recognizing her hotel room. This was not the Royal Sonesta. This was not her room. Where on earth was she?
She realized what had woken her up was a woman she did not recognize screaming at the top of her lungs as she stood in the middle of the room, looking down at her rather unusual outfit, which consisted of a puffy blouse and nothing else. Lizette frantically looked down at her own attire, and while she was still wearing her skirt, her jacket was gone, and her blouse was unbuttoned almost to her navel. Her bra was showing.
Letting out a little squawk herself, Lizette moved to rebutton it.
But when she pulled her right hand toward her breasts, a man’s hand came with it.
Lizette swallowed hard and stared in bewilderment at the faint dark hair on the back of the callused hand, not entirely sure what she was looking at.
Her sluggish brain processed the fact that she was handcuffed to a man. The silver ovals encased both of their wrists, and his hand was now flopping on her lace bra. This was not a good sign. Her gaze shot to her right as she shook her hand, trying to force the man’s hand off of her, which as much as she would like it to be, was not in fact dismembered.
It did belong to a living vampire, possibly the last vampire she would like to be chained to in a dark room that she didn’t recognize.
Oh dear. It was Johnny Malone who was handcuffed to her.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” he said with a half smile.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“I have no idea.” Johnny swept his free hand through his short hair. “I was actually hoping you had some idea of what happened last night, because I don’t. Never once have I blacked out, and yet . . . nothing.”
She didn’t remember anything either, and frankly, that was terrifying. “I don’t remember a thing! This is awful. Where are we?”
“Zelda’s dominatrix dungeon.”
