Taken Hostage Read Online Free Page A

‘Something like that.’
    ‘That’s ridiculous. Are you serious?’
    ‘Look,’ he said flatly. ‘There’s a reason I
took you as my hostage instead of one of those bimbos you work
with.’
    ‘And what’s that?’
    ‘Because you wanted to go. You wanted to get
out of there. I could tell. And,’ he paused dramatically, ‘it
seemed like there was a spark between us.’ He glared at her
defiantly, daring her to deny his assertion.
    She didn’t. Instead, she stared back at him,
open-mouthed in her surprise.
    ‘You don’t have to go back,’ he murmured, his
voice softer than before.
    Her anger had slowly begun to seep away.
Without it, her desire for him expanded and filled her to the
extent that it scared her. What he was saying was crazy. But it was
also true. She didn’t have to go back to her mundane life as
a bank-teller in rural New York. She didn’t have to fill out
another deposit ticket or listen to Alicia and Cindy’s incessant,
shallow chatter ever again. She could leave all that behind and go
with him, the impossibly handsome man she’d been fantasizing about
since first seeing him on the bank steps. It wasn’t practical, but
it was tempting.
    ‘I don’t have a gun.’ He pulled back the
sides of his jacket to demonstrate his claim. His sides rose and
fell steadily beneath the thin fabric of his T-shirt as he
breathed. ‘I’ll walk away right now if you want me to,’ he said
calmly. ‘I won’t hurt you.’
    She rushed forward and shoved her arms
beneath the sides of his jacket before he had time to lower them.
As she pressed herself against him her breasts flattened beneath
her dampened shirt, compressed by his washboard stomach and hard
chest. Several outraged voices of reason in the back of her head
demanded to know exactly what she thought she was doing, but she
ignored them, reaching up instead to grab the forelock of hair
that’d fallen into his eyes again. It was surprisingly soft between
her fingers. She pulled down on it, forcing his neck to bend and
his mouth to meet hers.
    He responded as if he’d been expecting her
reaction, or at least hoping for it. His mouth tasted faintly of
the sandwich and Coke that had constituted his last meal, but that
had been hours ago, and he behaved ravenously. His tongue probed
deep into the recess of her mouth, sliding hard against her own.
She pushed back, and he withdrew. She brushed his lips with her
tongue, preparing to push past them and give him a taste of his own
medicine, but he stopped her by denting the soft flesh of her lower
lip with his eye tooth.
    She exhaled sharply. It stung. No, it hurt . But not so much that she didn’t like it. Immobilized
from the neck up by his bite, she resorted to exploring with her
hands. She tucked a few fingers in the waistband of his jeans,
where he’d kept his gun the day before.
    His fingers were at the neckline of her
blouse, fumbling slightly over the small top button. She willed it
to cooperate, anxiously anticipating his touch, but it
resisted.
    He sighed in frustration, causing his tooth
to burrow deeper into her lip. She gasped, a sound born of pain, or
maybe pleasure – even she was unsure. He gripped either side of her
collar and pulled, parting her stubborn blouse in a spray of
buttons.
    ‘It was ruined anyway,’ he muttered as
buttons skittered across the leaves below and disappeared.
    Finally released from both her shirt and his
bite, Tiffany tasted blood. It dribbled from the small puncture
wound he’d created in her soft flesh, reddening her lower lip.
    He pressed his mouth against hers, covering
the wound and moving over it with surprising tenderness. ‘Sorry,’
he breathed.
    Her heart fluttered. She sighed against his
lips and dipped her fingers deeper into his jeans. As their tips
brushed against the smooth, rounded head of his cock, her core
tightened in anticipation.
    He buried a hand in her hair, cradling the
back of her head as his other hand pressed against her