Forsaken (The Secret Life of Amy Bensen #3)(23)

“No!” she yells, still trying to shift or twist with zero success before giving up and glaring at me. “Get off of me. Get off!”

“Calm down, Gia.”

“Calm down? Have those two words ever been spoken to a woman successfully? You’re on top of me! I’m not going to calm down.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I don’t think you’re going to rape or murder me. I think someone could come through that door while I’m tied up, and I’ll be helpless.”

“I’ll handle whoever comes through that door.”

“Not if you’re in the shower. And you told me not to trust you.”

I stare at her. She stares back at me, and a battle of wills ensues, crackling with challenge that slowly shifts to something darker, hotter, and I reply with a low, rough tone. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind,” I murmur, and suddenly I’m staring at her lips, her full, kissable, tempting lips. A mix of adrenaline and lust rushes through me, barely contained. My mouth lowers, my need to lose myself in this moment, in this woman a fierce beast that does not want to be ignored.

“Don’t,” she whispers urgently.

“Don’t what?” I ask, lingering a breath away from touching her face, so close I can almost taste her.

“Kiss me again. Because I’ll kiss you back, and we’ll both hate me for it.”

She’s right. But I still want to kiss her.

“Please,” she whispers.

“Please kiss you? Please tie you up and f*ck you like you’ve never been f*cked? Please make you come so many times you’ll never forget who you f*cked if you f*ck me over?”

“Please don’t do any of those things.”

“Because you don’t want me to?”

“I already told you why. You’ll hate me later. And I’ll hate me for giving you the chance.”

“And what about me? Will you hate me?”

“I don’t have a reason to hate you, Chad. I don’t know you.”

“But you want me.”

“I don’t know the right answer to that.”

“The truth will set you free.”

“The truth can’t set you free if no one believes you.”

Something about those words rips through me and cuts deeply. It’s some long-buried memory that I can’t seem to call to the surface, but it shakes me to my senses. Am I really about to bed a woman I was ready to believe helped kill my parents less than an hour ago? What the hell am I doing? I pull her arms forward and quickly wrap them.

“You’re still tying me up?” she demands, sounding desperate. “Why? Please.”

“I told you not to say please.”

“You didn’t say—”

“I am now.” I stand and pull her to her feet.

“This isn’t necessary. I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t even know how to hot-wire the truck. You can take the phone cord.”

“You knew how to make a bomb.”

“I explained that.”

“You’re just full of answers. And I’m full of questions. Come with me.” I start leading her toward the bathroom.

“I can’t go in there with you. What are you doing?”

Stopping, I face her. “I told you. I always have a plan. I’m keeping you close and safe.”

“No. You need privacy.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t give a f*ck about privacy. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” I start walking again and she tugs against me. Grinding my teeth, I give her a hard look. “My need for a shower and sleep is making me real damn cranky. Don’t make me carry you.”

She glowers, but she’s smart enough to follow this time as I lead her into the canister-sized shithole of a bathroom and seat her on the toilet. “Make yourself comfortable.” Anticipating her compliance, I return to the bedroom and snag the second tie dangling from the curtains. Returning to the bathroom, I kneel at Gia’s feet, grabbing her ankles and wrapping them just tight enough to be sure she can’t escape.

My hands settle on her knees, and when our eyes meet, hers burn with defiance, anger—but there is more there as well. There is the kind of simmering heat a man sees in a woman’s eyes when she wants him. She knows it, too, lowering her lashes. Trying to hide it. Enemy. Ally. It doesn’t seem to matter. Right now, we’re alone, us against the devil himself.

“Seems the tide has turned and we’re in reversed positions,” I taunt softly.

Her lashes lift instantly. “I was helping you escape,” she argues.

“And now I’m helping you escape.”

“That’s not what this feels like.”

“What then, Gia, does it feel like?” My voice is a low growl of heat and desire, my fingers flexing into her skin.

“I’m tied up.”

“Do you feel in danger?”

“No,” she admits reluctantly. “I don’t.”

“Then what do you feel?”

Her beautiful blue eyes search my face, as if she’s trying to figure out whatever mystery I am to her. “Confused,” she finally confesses. “You are very confusing.”

“Sweetheart, I’m a puzzle with so many missing pieces, even I can’t find them. Don’t try. You’ll fail.” I lean back on my haunches and lift my pant leg, grabbing my gun and placing it in between her hands. “If anyone comes in, remember your Texas roots: Shoot first and ask questions later.”