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“In a stairwell. Classy.”

He snorted in disgust and let her go. “Apparently, I’m an incurable romantic.”

“Don’t forget gullible,” she reminded him. She bolted up the stairs, not sure where she was going.

He swore and chased after her. Thank god she’d been doing some cardio lately, but as she raced up flight after flight he was practically on top of her. The threat of him grabbing her from behind at any moment excited her—it was like every horror movie she’d ever watched, and yet . . . not.

The rush was turning her on. If stealing cars was like this for him, maybe that was why he did it.

If he even did.

She reached the roof exit, but when she jammed her hip into the pressure handle, the door didn’t budge. Like an idiot, she rattled it. He’d stopped one landing down and slowly ascended the staircase toward her, filling the space with a wall of muscle.

“Oh god,” she blurted. What the hell was she doing? This guy was probably dangerous—for real dangerous—and here she was playing games with him. They were alone. He could do anything he wanted and she doubted anyone would hear her in this concrete stairwell. It both turned her on and scared the fuck out of her.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Hey now,” he said quietly. He backed a step and her heart decelerated a fraction. “You remember your safeword, right? All the power here is yours. You can make me stop anytime.” His smile was friendly, calm.

The dizzy feeling was ebbing, but now she felt silly. She’d actually asked for this, and yet she’d panicked.

“Sorry, I . . .” She had no idea how to explain and felt like an idiot for hyperventilating.

“Don’t apologize. Playing like this can get scary, especially if you don’t completely trust your partner.”

“You have a lot of self-control, stopping on a dime like that.”

“It’s part of the territory. Dominants have to be in control of themselves and read their partners. Safewords are great, but sometimes submissives or bottoms forget them in the heat of the moment. My job is to make sure you’re okay.”

That started a very different kind of warm feeling in her belly. He had the advantage and didn’t press it—and didn’t make her feel like an asshat for panicking. He was careful. Safe.

Probably a criminal, but a nice criminal. At least, one who had principles when it came to women.

“Do you want to go back to the club?” he asked, his expression open and nonjudgmental.

“No, I’m okay now.” She made her best sexy face, which may have made her look like a sloth with a toothache. The art of seduction had never been something she’d studied, and she was completely out of her element. She moved down the few steps that separated them, their eyes locked. When she had his full attention, she laughed, then ducked under his arm and made a break for it.

He caught her around the waist before she got past the landing, and threw her over his shoulder, despite her squawk of protest. As he made his way down the stairs, he was silent.

“Where are you taking me?”

Two flights later he answered, “You’re a clever girl. Figure it out.”

“I thought you said it was up to me.”

“If you wanted to leave, you would have said so by now.”

“Maybe I’m still thinking.”

“About getting fucked? I can tell.” He turned his head and bit her ass.

She started to kick, but he only laughed.

“That’s not what I’m thinking about at all!”

“The way you’re squirming around up there says otherwise.” He patted her ass, then swatted it. The sting made her melt. “When you grab a man’s dick it clues him in pretty fast.”

He took the exit door on to the fourth floor, and made his way down the hall. Because of the way her hair fell all around her face, Mila could only see the lower portion of his sexy back, and the way his jeans clung to his muscular ass and legs. When he slowed, then stopped, she tried to think up a reason not to do this. The fact that it wasn’t professional apparently wasn’t a strong enough deterrent for her. He was too hot for her own good.


Tags: Sparrow Beckett Masters of Adrenaline Erotic