“I don’t suppose there was a gun in there too,” she said. “I asked you in Gatlinburg if there was a gun hidden inside and you said there was.”
“I was joking. Being a jerk, really.”
“No. Never a jerk.” She squeezed their joined hands.
“We need to get these handcuffs off. It’s the only way we’ll have a fighting chance if he comes back before we get out of this shack.”
“You really think we have a chance?”
Her left hand clutched his right one so hard that his fingers started going numb. She was trying to put on a brave front. But inside, she was obviously terrified.
He leaned down and tilted her chin up, their eyes meeting with understanding, before he pressed a soft kiss against her lips. He’d only meant to distract her for a few seconds, to make sure she knew that he was here for her and would do whatever he could to protect her. But with both their emotions running high, touching her was like putting a match to gasoline.
Suddenly she was straddling him like she’d done in his rental car. And the temperature went up a thousand degrees as they tangled against each other like two horny college kids on spring break. It was only when she moaned into his mouth that he realized he’d slid his hands up her belly and was working on the front clasp of her bra. The logical part of his brain was yelling at him to stop this madness, that they were wasting valuable time. The rest of him, which seemed to be winning, was arguing that maybe this was exactly what he should be doing in case these were his last moments on earth. What better way to go out of this world than making love to the most amazing, interesting, adorably sassy woman he’d ever met?
“The back,” she whispered against his mouth. “The clasp is in the back.”
What few brain cells he had left registered what she’d said, that to take off her bra he had to slide his hands around to her back. But if that was the case, what was the hard part in the front of her bra he’d just felt?
Underwire.
He broke the kiss and stared down at her. Somewhere along the line, either she or he had discarded her shirt as best they could. It was hanging over his forearm caught in the handcuff chain. And in the dim light filtering in through the windows and front door, two perfect breasts sat in all their glory, exposed, freed from the cups of her bra that was still fastened beneath them. More than almost anything, he wanted to pull each nipple into his mouth, treasure those soft, warm, incredible curves. But, as impossible as it seemed, there was something else he wanted more.
Her underwire.
He slid his hands around her back and fumbled with the clasp. She sighed with pleasure as he pulled her bra off, but her eyes flew open in surprise when he sat back.
He held the bra up, felt where the underwire ended, then tore at the delicate fabric with his teeth.
She stared at him in confusion. “What...what are you doing? If you want to put your mouth on something, trust me, there are better places to put it.” She motioned toward her breasts.
He grinned even with the fabric in his mouth. She was definitely the type of woman who knew what she wanted. If he could go back in time and keep her at his house instead of turning her away, he’d probably still be in bed with her days later.
“Bryson?” She was frowning now, obviously getting annoyed.
He made one last tear and the wire hit his teeth. He sat back, working at it with his fingers now, pulling it out of the fabric.
She gasped in dismay. “That bra cost over a hundred dollars.”
He hesitated. “You’re kidding. You wear hundred-dollar bras?”
“It’s my only hundred-dollar bra. I was saving it for a special occasion.” She arched a brow. “Why do you think I took a shower at my parents’ house? Who do you think I put that bra on for?” She waved her hand toward her shorts. “I have matching panties too.”
Boy oh boy did he want to see those matching panties. But more than that, he wanted her tolive. He glanced toward the door, and the blessedly empty gravel road out front. “I’ll buy you another hundred-dollar bra, a dozen. And matching underwear. But right now, I need this.” He finally yanked the wire free and held it up. “Handcuff key.”
Her eyes widened in surprise.
“Hold up your wrist. I’ll try your side first.”
She did as he’d asked, and he ran his fingers along the flat side of the metal circle until he found the little slot for the key, just where the metal was locked into the hole. He slid the end of the underwire inside, then carefully worked it back and forth. The cuff backed out one slot with a loud click, giving her a little more wiggle room.
“It’s working!” Her voice was full of awe.
“Long way to go. Give me a minute. I have to be careful or the wire will break.” He ratcheted the metal back one slow click at a time.
“I’m guessing our captor took Annie from you at the Brodericks’,” he said as he twisted the wire in the cuffs. “Otherwise you’d have shot him full of holes.”
“Annie? Oh, my gun?” At his nod, she shook her head. “I don’t understand it. I had so many opportunities to get away, to get help. But I just...froze. In that foyer. He took your gun and mine before I even thought about trying to use them. Or run out the front door to a neighbor’s. I can’t believe I just...stood there.”
