Those are the same exact words she said earlier. I’m struggling between believing her or calling her bullshit.
I can’t decide until her background check comes back. Then I’ll know what to do with her.
I wish I could say she’ll regret lying to me if it turns out she’s lying, but then I’d be lying to myself. If she has the balls to look me in the eyes and lie this convincingly, then my life is about to take an interesting turn.
“Stand up.”
Without a word in protest, she rises to her feet.
My gaze sweeps over her. At the swell of her breasts, rising and falling with every breath she takes. Then the curve of her hips and the linen fabric stretching over her thick thighs.
She’s soft in all the places that can make a man weak. My fingers itch to touch her, and it takes a good amount of self-control to restrain the desire burning through my veins.
Her sweater is now wrinkled, sleeves rolled up to her elbow, and honey-blonde strands escape her collapsing ponytail.
She’s insanely beautiful.
More beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen, despite how disheveled she looks from being kidnapped and locked in here for a day.
“Take your clothes off.”
She narrows her eyes at me, her pupils instantly dilating with defiance. “Why?” She asks it like I’m some lunatic who wants to force himself on her.
I admit I’m a little fucked in the head, but I like my women willing and not burning up with a fever. I inhale, rising to my feet.
“You need to take a shower,” I say calmly. “To lower the fever.”
“Oh.” The look of defiance in her eyes vanishes, and it’s instantly replaced with one of her brows arching curiously. I can tell she’s shocked as to why I’d care about her having a fever, but she doesn’t voice the question.
Instead, she furrows her brows at me.
“What is it, ptichka?” I ask, not liking the way she’s glaring at me like she wants me dead.
“Don’t they teach you guys any manners at kidnapping school?” The sarcasm dripping in her tone doesn’t match her trembling voice.
I chuckle, amazed by how she holds herself even in the face of fear. I’ve killed men for less, but for some reason, I’m enjoying this more than I should.
“Kidnapping school?” Another chuckle rumbles from my throat. I take a step toward her, and she instinctively movesback. “Keep talking to me that way, and I can assure you that you won’t be leaving here anytime soon.”
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t back down. “Only losers threaten women they’ve abducted.”
My lips curl into a smirk. “Take off your clothes.”
She grits her teeth. “I won’t. Not while you’re watching.”
“Do you think I’m interested in seeing you naked?” I ask.
And goddamnit! I am. I want to see what she looks like beneath that sweater. I want to feel her skin…with my fingers. My lips. My cock.
“You’re an insane bastard who kidnapped me,” she blurts out. “Who knows what other sick fantasies you have?”
I don’t take others from anyone, but for some reason, I find myself turning around. “Happy now?”
“You’re not dead, so I can’t say what happiness feels like,” she retorts.
“I need to do something about that smart mouth of yours, ptichka,” I mutter, swallowing so hard my throat hurts.
I try to ignore the rustling noises behind me as she strips. I move to the dark wooden dresser, gripping the edge so hard that my knuckles ache. It’s a desperate attempt to not let my control slip.
