The apartment isn’t pitch black. There’s light spilling in through the sheer curtains from the patio lamps outside. But it still puts me at a disadvantage. He’s playing with me.
I turn around slowly, the hairs on my arms rising.
“Zach?” I whisper.
But there’s no answer.
I take a deep breath. This is the game, right? It’s him, nobody else.
And then there’s a sound. A soft click from the far end of the room. I blink, trying to see, but the darkness blocks out the details. I can’t see if the lock is turning.
But I can hear it.
I let out a soft yelp, and run to the bedroom. I close the door and lean against it, my breath coming harder. My fingers press against the warm wood as I hear footsteps. They’re slow and measured, coming closer, until they stop at the other side of the door.
Then he slams his hand against the wood. Just once. But hard enough to make me jump. And for my thighs to clench.
“Open the door, sweetheart,” he says, his voice thick and low. “Or you’ll regret it.”
Oh, he’s definitely playing with me. God, this manis perfect.
“Go away,” I call out. I’m halfway between laughing and hyperventilating. How can I feel so safe and so on edge at the same time?
There’s a soft laugh back at me. “I think we both know I’m going nowhere. Now we can do this the easy way or will it be the hard way? Which one you choose is up to you.”
I curl my fingers around the handle, and the metal jiggles.
“Oh come on, baby. The door won’t save you,” he says softly. “You know that.”
I take another breath. It’s shallow and gives me no air at all. “Leave me alone.”
“If you want me to go, you know what to do.”
I pull my lip between my teeth. He’s talking about my safe word. Making sure I’m okay, making sure I’m ready.
But I keep silent. I don’t want to use it. I want this.
I feel the handle turn in my grasp. I try to stop it, but I’m no match for him. It twists, then the door pushes in. I push back, so hard I roll onto the tips of my toes.
“The more you fight, the harder I’m going to go on you.”
Good. I want him hard. I want him mean. Then I want him soft and kind and holding me all night.
There’s a shove at the door that moves me. I fall on my backside, letting out a curse before I try to scramble back to my feet. The door clicks back into place the moment before I feel arms wrap around me, pulling me against a hard, muscled chest.
“Got you,” he murmurs. Then he puts his hand over my mouth, his thumb brushing the tip of my nose.
My pulse spikes as his scent hits me – his cologne mixing with the whiskey he drank in the restaurant. It makes me feel weirdly safe.
And completely exposed.
Zach bends his mouth to my ear, breath hot against my skin. “Don’t scream, beautiful. Not unless you want the whole hotel to know exactly what I’m doing to you. Now are you going to behave if I let go of your mouth? Nod if you are.”
I nod rapidly, because I’m so completely ready for this man it isn’t funny.
“Good girl,” he says. His hand releases my mouth, and I breathe before he turns me around. “Gonna turn the lights back on now.” He flicks at something on his phone. Oh god, he must control this place through some kind of smart app.
When the lights come on, I blink rapidly. “Sit on the bed,” he says, his voice as mean as the expression on his face. God, he’s so beautiful when he’s angry. I can’t help but stare. He notices my hesitance. “Do it now.”
