Page 7 of My Favorite Kidnapper

His chest pressed against my back, his enticing scent surrounding me.

“You should be dancing.”

“I-I don’t dance.”

“You do now.”

He spun me around, yanking me close. He wrapped a hand around my hair, tugging it until I was looking into his eyes. Under the light, the molten gold was rimmed in black. Unique. Like him.

“You dance with me.”

He moved, and without thought, I followed. It was as if we’d danced together for a lifetime. My lack of height didn’t matter. My inexperience didn’t bother him. He led, and I went where he directed my body.

“Sing for me,” he demanded. “Just for me.”

Normally unable to sing in front of anyone, I opened my mouth and did exactly what he wanted. Low and soft, but loud enough he could hear. I sang the beautiful words as we moved around the deserted balcony, our footsteps never faltering, our bodies never separating. One song bled into another, and when I didn’t know the words, I hummed. My head rested on his torso, and I felt the rumble of his chest as he sighed in pleasure. He kept me close, and for the first time in my life, I felt as if I was exactly where I belonged.

With him.

Which was all sorts of crazy.

I didn’t know him.

I never would.

The song ended, the band taking a break, and he eased from me, staring down, his eyes locked on mine.

“Who are you?” he breathed.

“Nobody.”

“Wrong answer, Little Bee.”

“It’s all I’ve ever been.”

“Not anymore.”

Then his mouth was on mine. Hard. Insistent. Passionate. I flung my arms around his neck as he lifted me into his arms, holding me tight to his body as he ravished my mouth. His tongue was velvet on mine as he explored me. I felt us move into the shadows, the cold, hard side of the building pressing into my back, a direct contrast to the heat of him. I wrapped my arms tighter around him, swimming in all he was. His warmth. His taste. The way he controlled the kiss. Controlled me. I was lost in a vortex of never-experienced emotions and sensations. My body was on fire, consumed by the desire pulsating through it. I wanted him.

It didn’t matter who he was.

I wanted him.

He tore his mouth from mine, dropping his head to my neck, kissing and tonguing the skin, groaning curse words, wicked assurances, filthy promises of what he wanted to do to me. And I was going to let him.

Until the door opened, and I heard Carolina’s voice. “I was sure I saw her come out here.” The door shut again, but it broke the spell I was under.

I froze, the reality of what I was doing, what I was allowing to happen, hitting me. I didn’t know this man. I hadn’t even asked him his name.

I pushed at his chest, and he growled in displeasure but released me.

“We’ll wait a moment and leave,” he murmured.

“No,” I snapped. “We won’t.”

And before he could react, I ran.

Away from him.