Deviant: Calla & Jason/Three's a Company/Final Terms: Steamy Romantic Suspense Serial Boxed Set Read Online Free Page A

wrapped in the arms of an old friend?
    Those arms are part of the problem, by the way—they look so strong and capable. So…okay, I’ll say it—sexy, damn it; Jason is crazy sexy. The cut of muscles in his limbs, the veins popping around his biceps, those riveting six-pack abs—he just looks so damned masculine, and it makes my breath catch. In general, he’s a good-looking guy, too, just never my type—so I thought. Now, it’s like I can’t keep my eyes away from him. Is that not the very definition of attractive?
    Damn it, it’s this small room, isn’t it? A small space and a good-looking member of the opposite sex who is clearly attracted to you and not doing a whole lot to hide it…
    “Let us out of here!” I shout suddenly, addressing the voice of the freak who put us in this position.
    I only hear a rumble of laughter in return.
    “Fuck,” I whisper. It’s all becoming too much. Something in my body has heightened. I want him! Damn it, I want Jason.
    I make sure not to look at him.
    But frickin’ hell, Jason steps toward me.
    “How long do you want to be trapped here with me?” he asks huskily.
    I chance a look at his face, and he looks calm, but those eyes—and definitely that voice—give him away.
    “You’re acting like you’re down with this!” I say, not even trying to control the panic in my own voice.
    “I’m down with getting out of here sooner than later,” he says with those stormy eyes.
    “Dream on!” I say, folding my arms with finality and turning away.
    Something in his energy changes, like he’s pulling away.
    Then he says, “Get over yourself, Calla—you’re not all that. But good for Scott—looks like he’s doing a great job of fooling you.”
    “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” I say, turning back to him.
    He comes right up to me, and I feel weak from the nearness of his strong chest as he towers over me. He is taller than me by about six inches, so I have to look upwards into his quiet anger.
    “It means you’re doing a lot of over- and underestimating here. I’d rather not touch you, either.” Then he turns away, and I realize I’d been holding my breath when I finally let it out.
    “I get the bed tonight,” he says before flopping on it. “And I don’t care what you do for the other nights, but I’ll be here for the rest of those, too. Join me, if you dare. You’ll no longer take my chivalry for granted, Calla. Contrary to your own belief, you’re no princess. Not mine, anyway.”
    He throws down the pillows.

8

    CALLA & JASON
     
    CALLA
    T he light in this room never turns off, I realize.
    The room is a little brighter in what I assume is daytime, but when we get ready to sleep, the light only dims a bit—I guess to give our eyes a break, and give us a chance to actually rest while making sure our kidnapper doesn’t miss anything that could happen in the dark, I don’t know.
    In any case, we’re visible at all times to anyone with working eyes—everything we do is in the light, nothing in shadow.
    I lie there on that horrible ground, unable to sleep. Too much is tossing inside of me.
    What are you going to do, Calla Lily Thompson ? I ask myself.
    God, my mom must have been some kind of hippy or something, giving me a name like that. I say ‘must have been’ because she died when I was five, not because she grew into some refined version of herself.
    I feel kind of bad because I can barely remember her. I have glimpses of her locked in me that pop into my brain every now and then, but at this point in life, I can no longer tell the difference between dreams and memories.
    In any case, I certainly don’t have her advice to fall back on.
    What does one do in a situation like this? Then again, how many mothers have advice for when you get kidnapped and locked in a room with one of your suddenly-sexy old friends, and the only way to get back to your regular life is to boink him? How does one go back to the way things were after that?
    I