“Don’t hurt me!” I stumbled backward.
“If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it years ago. I only came to remind you.”
My insides clenched. “Of what?”
“That you can’t escape me.” He took a step forward. “That our time has finally come.” Another step. “That nothing can stop me.”
I raised the glass bottle, ignoring the liquid spilling over my hand and the floor. “I’ll fight you!”
He chuckled darkly. “Oh, Amanda, don’t you know it turns me on when you fight back?”
Damn him. I was not going to admit he was right. That this push and pull was downright intoxicating.
My traitorous body wasn’t aroused by the idea of sex with my fiancé. That was what the sweet wine and the romantic ambiance were supposed to help create. But one look from this masked fiend from hell and I was on fire.
I waved the bottle in the air as if I could protest the obvious. “You’re going to ruin everything!”
With speed too fast to track, he batted the wine bottle away. I shot back, but he caught me, dragging me against his body.
I struggled, but he pinned me tightly in his arms.
Bending close to my ear, he whispered, “Exactly.”
I yelled as loud as I could.
His hand clapped over my mouth. “Bite me, I dare you.”
That was exactly what I did.
It only made the bastard groan, as if he liked the pain tangled with the primal charge in the air. His other hand snaked up my spine and tugged my hair back.
I whimpered at the sting. It felt incredible.
Dragging his nose up my neck, he inhaled deeply. “That scent. It does things to me.”
My heart hammered in my throat. And between my legs? A second pulse thumped with a low, treacherous rhythm.
Twisting me around, my stalker forced me onto the couch. One knee drove into my upper back. I tried and failed to lift my head and scream.
“Who knew that fear was such a turn-on for you?” he chuckled as the sound of a zipper ripped in the air.
I struggled and wriggled.
But there was no escaping him.
This was it. The monster was going to—
Duct tape me?
There was no mistaking that sound. I turned my head to see that the zipper belonged to a backpack, not his pants. My wrists were caught and tugged together as the tape tore.
Maybe there would be biological matter on the tape. A fingerprint!
But as he pulled another piece free, hope deflated. He was using a knife, and he wore leather gloves.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” He slid his hand up my thigh. I jerked from his touch, but there was no escape.
He squeezed my ass. Slapped the flesh. “I will not hurt you, Amanda.”
