“Let me go.” I yank at my wrist, trying to break his grip. But he’s not like those stupid teenagers in the alley all those years ago. He knows better.
One solid tug, and he spins me around to face him. Before I realize what’s happening, he’s grabbing me and flinging me over his shoulder, as easily as if I weigh nothing at all. He pins me against his shoulder, one arm around my legs and the other grabbing my ass firmly to hold me in place.
“Put me down!” I shriek, punching at his back. That only makes him squeeze my ass harder, and embarrassingly, I can feel my pussy starting to clench. No guy has ever touched me before, let alone like this. So possessively, so completely in control. He can take whatever he wants from me, and he knows it…
He strides across the yard, and my stomach aches where it’s bent over his shoulder. I can see a limo parked in the entryway, the gate wide open. Almost like someone let him in. I lift my head and spot the outline of someone in the guard booth—our night guard. Oh, thank god.
“Help!” I scream in his general direction, wishing I remembered his name. Ben? Brian? B-something.
The shadow in the booth swivels toward us. The man ignores it entirely, still walking calmly toward the limo.
Barry. That’s it. “Barry, help me!” I shout again, and I can see him in the booth now, his eyes on us, clearly watching the scene unfold.
Then he turns back to his screen, unconcerned, and starts typing something on the computer.
The gate to the property whirs open, clearing the way for this man’s escape.
My stomach sinks to my toes. That’s when I realize, well and truly, that I am trapped. Nobody is coming to save me. Nobody will help.
The man throws open the back door of the limo, and I’ve gone limp with shock when he tosses me into the backseat. All I can do is stare out the window at Barry, the man my father hired a couple of years ago, who knows me, who knows my Dad. He’s letting this happen.
Was everyone? Is that why Gerard and Andrew both left the house? Leaving me alone and vulnerable?
I curl over my legs, defeated.
That’s when the man takes the seat beside me and pulls the door shut after him. Up front somewhere, hidden behind tinted glass, a driver starts the engine and backs up to turn us around.
“I told you, Pamona,” he murmurs, and now his voice sounds almost apologetic. Like maybe some part of him regrets doing this. “No one is going to help you.”
That spurs me into lifting my head. I raise my chin, meeting his gaze. Pretending that I don’t feel the curl of fear in my stomach or the adrenaline sizzling in my veins. “Who are you?”
“You don’t remember me?” He lifts one eyebrow, smirking, the very picture of insolence. “I would have thought you’d recall your savior.”
“I thought you said you were the trouble, not the savior,” I respond. Then I bite my lip, realizing what I did. I admitted that I do remember him.
His smirk widens. “I knew I made an impression.”
“A poor one,” I respond, still keeping my head held high. “And you never did tell me your name. Why not? Afraid that I could use it against you? You’re willing to go to all these lengths to take me, to punish my father, but you can’t even admit who you are. Sounds less like trouble and more like cowardice to me.”
In one smooth, terrifyingly quick motion, he’s across the seat, looming over me. He grips my jaw in one tight hand, pulls my face up toward his, his body crushed against mine. I’m only wearing a thin sundress, in anticipation of the California weather I thought I’d be enjoying when I landed tonight. Instead, I feel the hard press of his muscles through my too-flimsy dress. My nipples ache at the warm heat washing off of him, and I pray they don’t harden. Don’t give away what I’m feeling right now, which is a horrifyingly powerful wash of lust.
I remember his scent most of all, and now it washes over me again, all musk and heat.
“I am not ashamed of anything. Not my name, not who I am. Not my family, either, which is more than I can say for you.” His gaze holds mine, piercing. That is, until I suck in a sharp breath. Then his eyes drop, taking in my lips, and my heart rate triples, a sharp, aching pound in my chest.