Page 44 of His Kidnapped Queen
“How would I know that?” I shoot back. “I don’t know you. We spent one night together three years ago.”
He draws in a sharp breath.
“Give me his name,” he says firmly, but his hands start sliding down my arms, skating down the sides of my curves.
I shiver. “No.”
“If he’s just ‘some guy,’ then why, pixie? Tell me why.”
I don’t answer and his hands go to my hips, holding on to them, pulling me closer to him. He presses his forehead against mine, breathing deeply. I can’t breathe myself. I feel like my throat is full.
“It’s because you’re fucking him, isn’t it? Does he love you? Do you love him?”
His words are soft, calm, but his grip on my hips gets tighter.
“If I give you his name, you’ll kill him,” I say, and I hate the way my voice shakes.
He glares at me but doesn’t answer, his full lips thinning.
“It’s late,” he says finally, as if I’m a child he’s got to put to bed.
Anger washes over me.
“Yeah, that’s because you fucking kidnapped me at midnight, Luca.”
“It’s not like I can let you go,” he answers idly, and fear replaces the anger. If he can’t let me go, doesn’t that mean he’s going to kill me?
His hands are still tight on my hips, his forehead still pressed to mine. He’s so close, so intimate, and when he moves to wrap a hand around my throat my body and mind are at war.
My mind is telling me to try and run, to kick out the small window in the room if I have to, but my body is heating up my skin, making heat pool in my lower stomach.
He’s going to kill me and I’m wet.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I could snap your neck for lying to me,” he murmurs, and fear and arousal in equal parts wash over me.
“You wouldn’t,” I whisper.
“And why not?” He squeezes his hand, cutting off my air, and I try to gasp. He lets loose and I draw in a deep breath. “It’d be so easy.”
“Because you don’t kill women,” I rasp out, breathing hard from fear and from excitement. The hand that isn’t still on my throat moves to cup my breast, thumbing across a nipple peaked from the cool air outside.
I have to fight not to moan.
He tilts his head. “And how do you know that?”
Fuck.
“Because I looked you up, after that night,” I lie. “You’re famous in this town, at least in certain areas.”
“Looked me up, huh?” His voice is still soft, calm. This is the strangest interrogation I’ve ever been a part of. “I could make an exception.”
“You won’t.”
“Is that so?”
His hands move to sweep up my back, and since my dress is backless his hands on my bare skin make me arch. I shouldn’t want him.Shouldn’t shouldn’t shouldn’t.
