“Of course.” He sat next to her and sighed. “This is nice.”
“How long do you think we’ll stay in this cabin?” she asked, swirling the liquid around in the glass.
He slid an arm around her shoulders. “Until I know you’re committed to me.”
Her skin crawled, but she forced herself to remain still. “Which would take what?”
He squeezed her. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”
Where was that knife he’d used at dinner? She swallowed. “I don’t know what you want from me.” Was there any way to reason with the guy?
He set his head back on the sofa and shut his eyes as if relaxing at home after a hard day’s work. “My lungs are still irritated from that gas. I can’t imagine what yours feel like.”
“They hurt.” That was true, but she’d thought it was terror. His touch on her shoulder made her want to smash the glass into his face and run like hell. Could she manipulate him into telling her if there were guns in the house? She didn’t think so. Skirting the line with honesty had been working so far.
“I figured you’d try and run,” he said almost absently. “Why haven’t you?”
She couldn’t think of an answer.
“It’s okay, Anya. I know it’ll take time.” His body tensed. “I hope I don’t have to hurt you too badly to get you to understand. I love you. You’re mine.”
She tried not to stiffen.
“Drink your drink.”
The guy hadn’t poisoned her so far, so she took a sip. The alcohol burned her tongue, and she coughed. “Wow. That’s strong.”
“It’s a good liqueur.” He emitted a pleased hum. “Finish yours.”
She shivered.
“It’ll warm you up before I do.”
She took a deep breath and swallowed the shot. Heat did explode in her stomach.
“Good girl.” He opened his eyes and took her glass, placing it with his on a side table. “I think the date is going well. Don’t you?”
She nodded but couldn’t find the right words.
He sat up a little and faced her, his gaze dropping to her sweater. “Maybe we should get more comfortable.” His fingers started playing with her ear.
Her stomach heaved. “I am comfortable.”
He laughed. “You’re smart and funny. I like that.”
She bit her lip to keep from screaming. “We should go slow in getting to know each other.”
He leaned in, his breath too strong against her face. “I’ve been trained by the best in pleasing a woman. Don’t you want to see what I’ve learned? Isn’t that what you all want? That’s what she told me.”
Anya swallowed, her legs shaking. “I’d rather talk to you. Find out what makes you tick, you know?” Her voice trembled. “I don’t care about other women or what they told you.”
“You should.” He pulled on her hair. Hard.
Pain jerked through her scalp. She gasped but refrained from crying out. “That wasn’t nice.” Tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, we both know you don’t like ‘nice.’ No woman likes ‘nice.’” He pulled again, this time even harder. Then he released her. “I’ll pretend for a while, if that’s what you want.”
What she wanted was for him to have a heart attack and die right then and there. She couldn’t do this. Unease filtered through her stomach and turned to an ache. Survival was what mattered. She had to survive and get back to Heath. “I like to watch television after dinner.” Were the news stations running her picture? Could there be a report on Heath and Denver? “I don’t suppose you have a television here.”
