“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” She stands, and I follow. Her movements are resigned but still defiant. “Two years with your son, now a lifetime with you. What did I do to deserve this family?”
“You survived. That’s more than most people can say after dealing with Dante.”
I toss money on the table for both our meals. The summer dress moves with her body in ways that make it hard to focus on anything else. When she bends to pick up the small backpack at her feet, the fabric stretches across her ass, and I have to remind myself that I’m supposed to be angry with her.
We’re almost to the door when she bolts.
I’ll give her credit for timing. She waits until we’re outside before making her move. But being on the run has taken its toll, and she’s not as fast as she thinks she is.
I catch her before she makes it ten feet, wrapping one arm around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She fights like a wildcat, kicking and clawing and cussing so foul it could wilt flowers.
“Let me go! Let me go, you bastard!”
I throw her over my shoulder, and the position puts my hands right where they need to be to keep her in place. Under her thighs, just below the curve of her ass, exactly where I held her that night when she straddled my lap in the darkness.
She’s still fighting, pounding on my back with her fists, but the struggle has pulled her dress up higher than it should be. When I look down, I can see the pale skin of her thighs, the edge of white lace that makes my mouth go dry.
Three months ago, I buried my face between these thighs and made her scream my name.
I reach my car and pull the passenger door open, depositing her in the seat with more force than necessary. She immediately tries to scramble out the other side, but I’m faster, grabbing her wrists and pinning them while I reach for the restraints in the glove compartment.
“You son of a bitch! You can’t do this!”
“Watch me.”
The handcuffs are heavy steel, with a chain that connects to ankle restraints. I start with her wrists, and she jerks against my grip, trying to twist away.
“Let me go,” she hisses, but her voice shakes.
“Not happening.”
I secure the first cuff around her right wrist, the metal clicking into place with finality. She tries to pull away, but I catch her left hand, my fingers wrapping around her wrist as I bring it to the chain.
“Please,” she whispers.
I ignore it and move to her ankles. Crouching beside the car door, I have to push her legs apart to access both feet. The summer dress rides up her thighs as she struggles, and I catch glimpses of pale skin that make my mouth go dry.
Her ankle is delicate in my hands as I fasten the first restraint. She kicks out with her free leg, catching me in the shoulder, and I grab both her ankles to hold them still.
“Keep fighting, and this gets uncomfortable for both of us,” I warn.
When I tug the chains to test they’re secure, the metal clinks softly in the evening air. She’s trapped now, completely at my mercy, and something primitive in my chest responds to that reality.
“Excuse me? Is everything okay over here?”
The voice cuts through the quiet parking lot like a blade. A woman in her thirties stands a few feet away, car keys in her hand, concern etched across her pleasant face.
She’s looking between Kasi’s restrained form and me hovering over her, and I can practically see her reaching for her phone.
“I have enough bullets in my jacket to paint this parking lot red. Everyone who tries to help you dies. Your choice,” I mutter to Kasi as I straighten slowly. Forcing my most disarming smile, I turn fully to the woman. “Everything’s perfect. Just getting my girl ready for tonight’s…activities.”
The woman’s eyebrows shoot up. “Activities?”
I see Kasi’s throat work as she swallows hard. When she speaks, her voice transforms completely.
“Oh God, yes,” she breathes, and the sultry purr in her tone makes every nerve ending in my body stand at attention. “I’ve been begging him to tie me up like this all week.”
The stranger’s mouth falls open slightly.
