I struggle to get up. The fabric of my dress is wet and heavy from the rain, making it hard to stand. The stranger extends a hand but as I reach up to grab his, he grabs my arm instead. He’s stronger than he realizes, and I can tell a bruise is forming on my arm.
The fact that he’s not wearing gloves is my clue that the good guy won, and we will both live to fight another day. Well, he’ll fight. I need self-defense lessons. Years ago, Papa did a hostage drill with me but it’s only good for the kidnapping by car scenario.
I can’t see my hero’s face in the dark, but I do notice a marking on his hand I assume is a tattoo. It’s not what I consider to be normal. It’s different, and not filled in with color, nor can I make out the exact details but it could be two lines in two different place and maybe a handle. Paying attention to details is something I learned in kidnapping drills. I was told to look for details to remember instead of panicking. In the real world, it’s easy to say that and much harder to do.
“No one will ever hurt you now that you are mine.” He deep voice makes my heart flutter. His words imply that he owns me.
Mine? What does he mean?
“Thank you for saving me,” I murmur as I gather my dress in my shaking hands and lift the material to my ankles. My gown is stuck to my body, outlining every nook and cranny as I find it constricts my movement.
“Follow the rules so I don’t have to rescue you again,” he says.
I shiver and tell myself it’s from the shock of the incident or the rain. However, I find the manner in which is taking control of the situation calms me. As intimidating as he is, I’m safe with him.
I look up, attempting to see his face but the rain stings my eyes.
“Who are you?”
Without hesitation, he pulls me into his broad, solid chest. Before I can say another word, his hot, searing lips find mine with such force that I tremble. Between the salt on his lips, the droplets of rain, and rolling thunder behind us, I’m intoxicated.
Our body chemistry merges, creating a combined warmth, and our kiss provides a refuge from the cold air and his cold demeanor. I can’t open my eyes so I keep them I shut and tilt my head back. I fit perfectly into the crook of his arm. His deep kisses warm me in places I’ve forgotten. A moistness builds between my legs, and I can’t help but kiss him back, my lips become eager for more.
I’ve never experienced any kiss with synergy like this. His hungry lips devour mine. He’s demanding, pushing harder, as if he’s searching for something hidden as his tongue explores my mouth. He tugs at my bottom lip, sucking it into his, which I find wildly enticing. No man’s ever been so forward or forceful with me.
I return his passion with my own, yearning to experience a man’s passion. I press my lips to his with equal pressure. Our tongues mingle together, fighting each other for dominance before settling into a give and take rhythm that rocks me to my core.
Warmth spreads through my arms and breasts like a beacon of sunshine and everything around me fades away. It’s only me and the stranger who rescued me as the rain slows. We’re both wet and my hair is falling around my shoulders as my updo is destroyed.
His arm pulls me tighter to him and my lungs scream for air as I’ve never been kissed so long. I need oxygen and as soon as I come up for air, someone yells my name.
He immediately pulls away, disappearing into the night.
I glance around my immediate surroundings to catch a last glimpse of him but I know he won’t be found unless he wants me to find him. With him gone, I experience my first sight of a fresh, dead, body. It’s in the flesh and not on the TV. I want to scream but know I can’t, so I cover my mouth with my hand as bile and champagne rise in my throat.
There’s no escaping the sight of the dead man with his eyes open and his throat slit laying in a pool of his own blood.
That could have been me.
Waves of nausea force me to crumple, but I force myself to stand and run towards the voice I recognize as Papa’s.
I run after I scan the garden one last time for the kiss thief but he’s not coming back.
Stealthy, like a ninja, he appeared and disappeared without a sound.
Papa’s voice is full of panic as he calls my name again.
“I’m here,” I shout, running faster. I want to put as much distance between me and the corpse as possible.
I didn’t even thank the man who saved me.
My father runs to me, gathers me in his arms, and pulls me to him with such a forceful hug he squeezes the life out of me.
Between the run and his arms, my lungs and legs struggle to fight off fatigue.
“Are you okay?”
“I can’t breathe,” I gasp.