Whispered Lies

A strong arm banded around her, his hand rubbing along her back, slowly, soothing. She had to get out of this bed, clear her head, and figure out what the devil she’d got into.

But his fingers were gently kneading the tense muscles, turning her body to jelly. Her limp muscles lost all tensile strength. Moving from this spot would take a monumental effort.

Who was this bloody guy?

He winked. All thought of reprimand over this impropriety stuttered in her mind.

She sighed. Isn’t it against some set of rules to be in bed with the prisoner? His magical fingers dismissed that question. She should be ranting at him, but honesty forced her to admit she enjoyed his touch and wasn’t particularly distressed at the moment.

Considering what she’d experienced yesterday, this wasn’t that strange.

He stopped rubbing her back, but left his arm looped over her shoulder. The silence continued. The formidable gaze that swept through his eyes now was no softer than the hard chest beneath her. A muscle twitched in his cheek.

Was he laughing at her?

She narrowed her eyes into what she hoped sent back just as formidable a message, though she had a feeling his was better. He’d probably had more practice at looking intimidating.

“You’re much calmer than I expected.” His chest continued to move slowly up, then down. His breath smelled like mint. She’d noticed the tin of strong mints he kept in the car last night. Must keep them near the bed, too.

“Why am I here?” she finally asked.

“I told you I was taking you somewhere safe.”

“Don’t be obtuse. I mean here, in this bed.”

“You needed rest.” His eyes softened. Amused. “Trust me. Nothing happened.”

Why had that sounded so definite? As in, he wasn’t the least bit interested in her sexually.

That should be a relief, right?

It probably would have been if his deep voice didn’t engage the wrong part of her brain. The part that considered it a perfectly sound idea to lounge in bed with a sexy stranger who had kidnapped her. All right, yes, she did sort of trust him after he’d constantly protected her yesterday, but that didn’t excuse a lapse of sanity.

The point was to get out of this predicament, not feed his ego by remaining compromised.

He drew a deep breath quickly, lifting her up so fast she hugged her right arm to him out of instinct to maintain balance.

Not the message she wanted to send him, so she pushed up with the same hand to get away.

That’s when she realized she had a cloth wrapped around her right wrist. When she jerked her right hand up to inspect it, he scowled. Her wrist jangled.

“Wait a minute.” He grabbed her wrist with his left hand.

“You”-Gabrielle leaned her elbow on his chest, enjoying the grunt-“handcuffed me to you? Let me go.” She jerked away, but couldn’t get leverage from her position.

He rolled her over swiftly, pi

Any humor or concern had vanished. The black gaze raking her now stu

“Don’t start this morning fighting me or today won’t go much better than yesterday,” he warned in a voice rough from deep sleep.

Think. Say something to back him off. She couldn’t process a thing with him so close. His eyes blazed with a different heat all of a sudden. The look was so charged with arousal her hormones went on alert for an early morning treat.

Now she was the one not thinking like a prisoner.

Carlos studied her with intense interest that left her feeling he could see right into her mind, then his gaze relaxed. He asked in a gentler voice, “How can you be afraid of me after yesterday?”

She worked on breathing steadily, in, out, in, out. When was the last time she’d been this close to a man in bed? Anywhere? One so overtly sexual she didn’t think he could prevent it. She swallowed, preparing to ask him, nicely, to let her up.

He must have misread the action and thought she still feared him when he lowered his head, those chiseled lips so close she could taste them. “Truce, remember?”

He kissed her.

The man had kissing down. He could give lessons. She’d sign up for an ongoing program. His mouth played across hers softly, teasing, then paused and sealed her lips with his. She sensed him holding back, then raw, masculine heat poured through the kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth, moving with slow erotic motions that sent a wave of lust spiraling down to pool between her legs.

His fingers drove into her hair, holding her.

She shivered and clenched with the raging need for more.

Years of hiding and loneliness interfered with the message from her brain warning her to stop now.

With her hands free, she reached for his shoulders to pull him closer.

One hand made it. The other slapped back to the bed, still handcuffed to his wrist. That broke through her erotic haze.

She stopped kissing, priding herself on that one feat since her lips didn’t want to leave a mouth like his.

“Let. Me. Up,” she demanded through clenched teeth, trying to regain some self-respect. She twisted her body back and forth to make it clear she meant now.

He scowled a curse, which she figured out a bit late. Moving her hips with their bodies so close had the opposite effect of what she’d intended.

His legs were on each side of hers, locking her into place. The only barrier between where their hips met was her lace underwear and his shorts.

And one impressive hard-on.

She was in no mood to be impressed right now. Her heart thumped so hard the beat should have been echoing off the walls, but she would not feed his ego by letting on how much he affected her. “Get off me.”

A weary sigh rushed out of him on another mint-flavored breath. He eased up on his elbows and knees, but kept her legs locked between his.

“Calm down.” His eyelids lowered in a droll frown. “I am not interested in taking advantage of you. I had to handcuff you to something last night. You kept sleeping on your stomach so I cuffed your right hand to my left hand but you scratched the hell out of me-twice-when you crawled up on my chest.”

She lowered her gaze to his shoulder and saw two red marks that disappeared inside the gray tank top he wore, then lifted her eyes to his. I am not apologizing.

“So I finally uncuffed you and waited for you to settle down in one spot before I cuffed us again.”

When she didn’t say a word, he snapped, “You picked the spot, not me.”

She shouldn’t feel embarrassed for climbing all over him, but couldn’t convince herself to take it in stride. He sounded put upon to wake up with her wrapped over him when it was just as much his fault as hers. She’d slept alone for so long she was used to having the entire bed at night and normally ended up on top of a big pillow.

Besides, she stung from how he was “not interested” in her body. He could have just said he’d kept his hands to himself. She knew she didn’t have some buff body.

“Don’t kick, hit, bite, or do anything else and I’ll uncuff you. Agreed?” He’d issued that offer as an order.

She nodded.

He just shook his head and reached over to the nightstand, returning with a key. He unlocked his wrist first. She noticed a red welt where he hadn’t wrapped his wrist protectively.

Her wrist was fine since he’d wound soft jersey material around it, taping the material in place. Or had he done that because her wrist was narrow and he thought she might slip out of the cuff during the night?

That made more sense.

She was his prisoner, not a kinky date.

The minute she was free, Gabrielle scrambled off the bed to stand.

He was still crouched on the bed. His gaze swam across her from head to toe. What was he thinking?

“The bathroom is over there.” He nodded to the left. “Get in there. I’ll bring your clothes.”