Captured by Time Read Online Free Page A

was no longer possible for him to feel. Regardless, he flipped her over and cradled her between his legs, holding her so that her backside wasn't touching anything and resting inches from the quilt beneath them as he gathered her within his tight embrace. Against his better judgment, he hugged her to him, rocking slightly. He wasn't usually one to show such intimacy to a woman of ill repute, but nonetheless, she was a woman in distress and he couldn't just allow her to cry. Especially since her distress was due to his hand, deserving or not. A woman of her kind wasn't used to a man's firm guidance no doubt, but her venomous tongue and actions needed some handling.
    "I told you not to scream, woman, and I mean what I say."
    His hard, implacable tone had her stiffening even further, but judging by the sounds drifting up from downstairs, they had a while before he would need to leave, and he intended to get his—or whoever's—money's worth from her. He hadn't contracted for her services, since a prostitute wasn't of much interest to him. Belle, the madam downstairs, must have sent her to the wrong room. But she was his now, and for some crazy reason unbeknownst to him, he'd kill any man who tried to interfere.
    What was one more death added to the pile of men he was already supposed to have killed? Besides, he had what he needed to prove his innocence now, and was in the mood to celebrate. And this little whore whimpering in his arms was a definite way to do that. Something about her seemed different than the rest. Special.
    Slickly, as if he'd done it a thousand times—and he hadn't, at least not quite that many, anyway—he twisted himself and her so that she was lying beside him, on her back, on the bed, still sporting the gag he'd made from the handkerchief he kept in his pocket. He considered removing it but then thought better of the idea. Some whores wouldn't let you kiss them, but he'd seen her lips and had wanted them instantly on his… and on other places that had long since hardened at the thought.
    Regardless of what she would allow or not, he knew he couldn't chance it. If she screamed again, if she screamed at one of those times when everyone else fell silent, he knew Belle and her goons—and probably the town sheriff, he'd seen him downstairs and done his best to avoid the older man's sharp eye—would be up here in a second, and that would be the end of him.
    Fucking her probably wouldn't be the smartest thing he'd ever done in his life, but the moment he'd woken up and seen her sleeping in his bed, he'd known that he was going to risk his hide, literally, to do just that. She was just too damned tempting, with all that honey blonde hair spread out over his pillow. It wasn't that artificial, brassy color a lot of working girls favored, but looked completely natural and enticing, and he was a fool for a woman's hair. Not to mention how innocent she looked while asleep, her face surprisingly clean and devoid of the remnants of the usual garish makeup.
    Of course, she wasn't dressed like any doxy he'd ever met—that nightgown was going to have to come off. But he guessed that maybe it was a novelty which some men enjoyed. Given his own preferences, he liked his women to be well-covered, although this nightgown was a bit much, even for him.
    It didn't button all the way down the front, though, so he took a side in each hand and ripped it, finding he didn't have the patience to take it off over her head. He wanted his hands on her; his palms literally itching with the need in a way they never had before. One was still distinctly warmer than the other, the price he paid for disciplining her, one he would never shirk paying for the right woman.
    Which, unfortunately, wasn't her. Wasn't likely to be any woman until he could get his name cleared, but even then it wouldn't be someone that everyone else in town had had. His pride just couldn't take that idea.
    She screamed—or tried to—just as loudly when he tore