"You know my intent isn't to harm you," he murmured. "Otherwise, I could have led you from that bar earlier, taking you somewhere for us to be alone." My breaths went shallow at that. "Would you not have left with me?"
In--a--heartbeat.
He leaned down to say at my ear, "That's right, Natalya. You would have followed where I led."
"Um . . . uh . . ." I was still recovering from the sound of my name in his raspy accent when I felt his warm breaths. Oh, God, had his lips ghosted over my ear? If his scent and heat had affected me, this grazing contact made my legs weak.
He drew back, expression inscrutable. "So why don't you stop acting like you haven't already made up your mind to come with me."
"P-pardon?"
"You were decided as soon as you heard the words Russia, father, and go." His firm lips thinned, making that razor-slice scar whiten.
"That's not necessarily true--"
"Time's up, pet." He bent down to loop an arm around my ass, hoisting me over his shoulder.
Chapter 3
"PUT ME DOWN!" I screeched, wriggling over the Neanderthal's shoulder as he strode out the front door. Cold air swept up my robe, chilling me in unfamiliar places. "You can't do this!"
He tightened his grip on my ass. "Doing it." His tone was casual; he wasn't even out of breath.
Another futile round of squirming. "Please put me down. We'll go back inside"--I'll run away--"and then I can pack, just like you said."
Three passersby ambled down the sidewalk, huge no-neck guys in letterman jackets. Husker football players! They stopped and gawked.
Hanging upside down, blood rushing to my head, I opened my mouth to scream for their help--then hesitated. Did I believe what Sevastyan had told me? Was I beset by an overbearing asshole of a bodyguard--or being abducted? If I screamed, the jocks would kick Sevastyan's ass, which wouldn't help me get to Russia--
This decision, just like the previous one, was yanked out of my hands. Sevastyan turned to face them, slowly shaking his head. Whatever look he gave them made three massive football players hotfoot the other way.
As they vanished, I pounded on Sevastyan's back in frustration, stunned to feel a holster. He was carrying a gun! I didn't have time to register my shock before he was shoving me into the front passenger seat of a luxe Mercedes.
As soon as he shut the door, I lunged for the handle, but he'd already clicked the lock, holding it down with the remote.
At his door, he gave me a look of warning through the window. He knew he'd have to release the lock button to get in, giving me a chance to escape. The unlock game. I would time it perfectly, reflexes like lightning--
Shit! He'd opened his door, then jammed the lock button back down before I could open my side!
He slid his big body into the car. "Better luck with that next time."
"This is kidnapping!"
"I told you my intentions. Gave you a countdown." He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. "Understand me, Natalie, I do exactly what I say I'll do. Always." He smoothly executed turn after turn, as if he knew this town as well as I did. "And right now I'm telling you that I will get you safely to your father in Russia."
"How do you think you'll get me through airport security like this?" I waved my hands to indicate my robe. "I don't even have my purse!"
"We're going to a private airport. And by the time we land in Moscow, you'll have all new clothes brought to the jet."
New clothes? Jet? Was he serious?
His gaze landed on my legs, on my half-bared thighs. And with that one dark glance, my skin flushed. I couldn't help recalling the way he'd looked down on me in the bath.
Like a hungry predator eyeing tender prey.
Like I was already a caught thing, his to enjoy. I shivered.
"Are you cold?" he asked. "You look . . . chilled."
Chilled? Oh. Because my nipples were still jutting. Yes, I was cold, but my body was also suffering the aftereffects of my foiled masturbation attempt. To be so close, drawing in on myself . . .
In some ways, I felt the same now. Tense, drawn, my skin prickling with awareness each time he looked at me.
When I didn't answer him, Sevastyan turned on the heater, and hot air blasted against my chest, over the hypersensitive tips of my breasts. I nearly yelped when I felt the seat warmer toasting the cleft of my ass. In the close confines of the car, I got another hit of his mind-numbing scent.
So much stimulation. Could he see me trembling?
Once we were on the main highway heading out of town, the car purring along at eighty miles per hour, he commanded, "Put on your seat belt."
I didn't like this tone at all, heard it constantly at my server jobs. "Or what?" I narrowed my eyes. "And did you really call me pet earlier?"
"When I tell you to do something, it's in your best interest to do it, pet." Without warning, he reached over to yank my seat belt into place, roughly grazing my breasts with his forearm, filling my head with his scent. I squirmed on the hot seat, feeling dazed by this arrogant man.
I remembered one time when I'd been written up for public intoxication after a football game; I'd been mentally yelling at myself to sober up, willing myself to recover my wits so I could talk the cop out of the expensive citation. Stop chuckling, Nat, and answer the nice officer! Not OSSIFER, dumbass! Do NOT touch his shiny, shiny badge, do not--DAMN IT, NAT!
I felt like that now: under the influence.
Sevastyan affected me in a way I couldn't shake. I was experiencing a bewildering attraction to him, some inexplicable connection.
And no matter how bad an idea it was, I kept wanting--metaphorically--to touch his badge.
No, no, no--I needed to concentrate on getting information out of him. "Do you keep your promises, Sevastyan?"
"To you and your father alone."
"You promised m
e answers."
His hands tightened on the wheel, those sexy rings of his digging into the leather. "Once we are on the plane."
"Why not now? I need to know more about my parents."
He didn't deign to respond, just monitored the rearview mirror with that wary alertness.
I remembered his earlier demeanor, checking the street through my bedroom blinds. "What's up with this paranoia? We're in Lincoln, Nebraska; the most dangerous thing that's ever happened here was when this Russian asshole kidnapped an unwitting co-ed--in her robe."
The speedometer hit triple digits.
"Are we . . . are we being followed?"
Another glance into the rearview. "Not at present."
"Which indicates we might have been in the past--or perhaps could be in the future?" This was too bizarre. "Am I in some kind of danger?" Questions about my parents and past faded as dread about my immediate future surfaced.
With reluctance, he said, "Kidnapping for ransom is always a fear."
I narrowed my eyes. "I don't buy that. What you just described sounds like a chronic problem, or a theoretical one. Yet you broke into my house and demanded that we leave in five minutes, which sounds like an acute problem. So what happened between the time I saw you in the bar and the time you entered my home?"
Sidelong glance. "I think you have your father's cunning."
"Answer me. What happened?"
"Kovalev called and gave me the order to get you on a plane. Which means it's as good as done."
A sudden thought struck me. "How long have you been my bodyguard, Sevastyan?"
"Not long," he hedged.
"How--long?"
He hiked his broad shoulders. "A little over a month."
And I'd never known. "Have you been following me around? Watching me all this time?"
A muscle ticked in his wide jaw. "I've been watching over you."
Then he would know me better than I could even imagine. So what would a man like him think of me?
When he turned off the highway at an obscure exit, I cried, "Wait! Where are we going? There's no airport out this way. Not even an executive one."
"I had to arrange an alternative departure point."
Alternative? I'd promised myself that if I didn't like his answers, I'd flee into the arms of a security guard. I'd gotten few answers, and now had serious doubts about running into any guards.