As the door opened, I heard a low and husky growl, the sound permeating the room.
“What the hell?” the man half whispered before entering.
Without question I recognized his voice, the deep and distinctive baritone sending the same rush of desire into every inch of my body. The same voice that had called me beautiful as he’d thrust his cock deep inside. The same breathlessness he’d had after feasting on my pussy.
Sinclair.
My captor.
When he stepped into the room, I had the element of surprise, bringing the painting down with as much force as my limited strength would allow.
He was quick with his reactions, twisting and trying to grab the edge of the frame, but it was too big and too awkward. I was able to smash it over his head, the frame and canvas briefly holding him captive.
I threw myself at him, pitching him backwards by a few feet. Enough that I managed to lunge for the door, making it all the way to the top of the stairs, hopeful of escaping the luxurious cage.
Yet the moment I did, I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of a huge man standing at the bottom.
With a fucking grin on his face.
Suddenly, Sinclair was right behind me. Not only was his hot breath cascading across the back of my neck, but the jolt of electricity skittered into every muscle and bone.
“You need help, boss?” the man called.
“I’ll handle it from here, Enzo.” His deep voice penetrated my eardrums, his tone of utter control more annoying than terrifying.
“Why don’t you call the police, Enzo,” I tossed out. “He did kidnap me. You can either be an accomplice or my hero.”
The man’s grin widened as Sinclair grabbed my wrist, dragging me back into the bedroom. After slamming the door, he pitched me onto the bed.
Even in my weakened state, I refused to allow him to have any control over me. I scrambled forward and onto the floor, throwing punch after punch. He deflected a few, but took the others, even swinging his head to the side after one particularly brutal blow.
The instant rush of adrenaline was fading, exhaustion threatening to take control.
While he acted as if the action had caused him pain, I knew better. The man was made of steel. I recoiled, fearful of what he was going to do. He was a powerful and dangerous man, his entire family holding the fate of New Orleans in the palms of their hands. I was a fool to think anything I did would matter.
“That’s enough,” he growled, the sound creating a series of vibrations dancing through me.
“Like hell it is.” This time when I threw one last punch as if trying to make a point, he captured my fist with his massive hand, holding my arm in place.
“Stop fighting me, Josette. Jesus Christ.” When I dared act as if I was going to continue, he grabbed my arms, pulling them behind my back and holding my wrists together with one hand.
“What if I don’t?” Did I really want him to answer me?
He inched closer, lowering his head until our lips were almost touching. “Then I’ll need to punish you. Just calm down.”
Was the bastard kidding me? He’d taken me captive and he felt the need to punish me for acting out. “How about this? Fuck you.”
“That can be arranged just as we’ve done before. Which you seemed to enjoy, I might add.”
“Over my dead body.” The sly look on his face should increase my anger, but I suddenly envisioned him in his boxer shorts with a thick bulge and cringed. Why? Because my pussy throbbed.
Maybe he was surprised at my vehemence. It was hard to tell with him. He’d suddenly become a master of disguising his emotions. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’m going to back away and allow you one more chance to behave. You’re in a fragile state and you need to rest.”
“A fragile state? To behave? Or what? Let me guess. You’re going to tie me to the bed?” I wiggled in his hold, furious with both him and myself. How had I let my guard down? How? Why?
“Not a bad idea. I’ll save that for later. If you don’t calm down, you won’t like the punishment you receive. Don’t test or push me right now, Josette. I’m not your enemy and you don’t want me to be.”
He was more formidable than before, as if he was an entirely different person. Where there’d been fire to his eyes before, now they were liquid glaciers, pools of dry ice and nothing more.
