His lips brushed against my ear again. I tensed for the bite of teeth. “Know what else your body tells me?”
I shook my head, swirling my tongue around his thumb. My core clenched; my mind blanked. The moment of intense privacy happened on a very public couch in a café window.
“You need something. You want something that you’re not ready to understand.” Jethro placed a delicate kiss against my jaw. “You need it so bad you’d allow me to run my hand up your knee, between your legs, and sink my fingers deep inside you this very second. You’d open your innocent thighs, even with witnesses, and moan as I sank my cock deeper than anyone.”
A bubble formed in my chest, twisting and glistening with a mixture of denial and agreement.
His thumb pressed hard, pinning my tongue below.
I jerked, eyes tearing wide.
“You’d let me drag you into some sleazy alley, tear off your dress, and…”
I didn’t want to hear the rest. But I did. Oh, how I did. He’d taken the power of speech away. I couldn’t deny anything he said. And I didn’t want to. For the first time in my life I had something real. Cheap and shallow, just like Kite, but hot-blooded and absolute.
I would willingly trade my flawless reputation for one night of sordid incredibleness. What does that make me?
I flinched, answering my own question. Lonely. I hated that word more than any other in the dictionary.
Jethro’s thumb slinked slowly from my mouth, holding me firm. “You’d let me make you scream, Ms. Weaver, and because of that willingness, I would never bow to what you want.”
The heat generated from the intense conversation dispersed, faster and faster. He curled his lip. “Whatever would your father say if he knew his daughter secretly wanted to be fucked against an alley wall by a stranger?”
The crudeness of his words slammed me back to reality.
He dropped his hand, and plucked a napkin from the table. Imprisoning my gaze, he slowly wiped his glistening thumb, before tossing the tissue into his empty coffee cup. “I dare you to deny any of that. Or pretend you didn’t want every inch of me.” He smirked at the double entendre.
The flush of mortification crested over my breasts to my cheeks. My tongue bruised from his rough handling, my mouth empty from tasting him. I couldn’t sit there and be ridiculed any longer. I’d been selfish and allowed this egotistical maniac to cancel my plans with Vaughn and father, all for nothing.
This was karma, and it stung like hell.
Grabbing the mountains of fabric wedged around me, I tried to stand—unsuccessfully. “I’m leaving. I can’t—”
“If you can’t speak the truth, I don’t want to hear your other excuses or reasons on why you suddenly need to run. You’re not permitted to leave my side, so be a good girl and fucking listen and obey.” His voice whipped me, but his body remained immaculate and collected. The two dynamics of temper and poise pierced my stupid haze, slamming me back into fear.
Who was this man?
And why didn’t I run the moment I set eyes upon him? Something wasn’t right. Something was building, rushing toward a conclusion I wanted no part in.
Jethro stood upright, jerking me to my feet. “I take by your silence you’ve made a sensible decision and acquiesced. I’m also assuming that this—whatever this was—is over?” His fingers bit into my bicep, shaking me. “Stop acting the fool and realize what is happening.”
Anger replaced my embarrassment. It was like Kite all over again, only worse, because this was real and I had nowhere to hide. “I have no idea what’s happening, and I’m not going anywhere with you. You’ve proved that you find me gullible, stupid, and unworthy of your precious time, so leave. I’m not keeping you here.” Twisting my elbow, I tried to get free. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Jethro smiled coldly. “Ah, there’s the conundrum, Ms. Weaver. You’re not keeping me. But I’m keeping you.”
I stopped with my hand over his, unsuccessfully trying to pry his fingers off my arm. “What?” The dreaded drunkenness of vertigo took that moment to tilt my world.
Jethro took my weakness as an opportunity, pulling me toward the door. He didn’t give me any support other than the harsh hold on my upper arm, leaving my untouched coffee on the table. “I’m leaving. And you’re coming with me.”
The door jangled as we exited in a flurry of bustle and feathers. I gasped as a frosty gust cut through the warmth lingering on my skin, decimating all remainders of the café. Luckily the shock in temperature helped steady me and I fought.
Slamming my heels into the pavement, I snarled, “You seem to have the wrong information. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Jethro didn’t reply, dragging me effortlessly across the road to the shadowy entrance of an alley and his bike.
An alley?
He couldn’t mean what he’d threatened…could he?
You want me to make you scream.
I fought harder. But no matter how much I struggled, he didn’t break his stride or look back.
Tripping forward, I winced as my flesh bruised beneath his hold. I angled my nails, preparing to drag them over his forearm, but he stepped onto the curb and yanked me forward. The inertia propelled me into a spin, slamming me painfully against his motorcycle.
My black hair whirled over my shoulder, sticking to the fear perspiring on my chest. I struggled to keep up—to believe how stupid I’d been. I prided myself on being smart, but I allowed the temptation of sex to cloud my judgement.
Jethro glowered; his suit as crisp as his unflappable control. “My information is perfectly correct. And you are going somewhere with me. Climb on.”
I tore my elbow from his hold and shoved his chest. “Wrong. Let me go.”
He growled under his breath. “Stop, before you get hurt.”
I pushed him again, focusing on the ridiculousness of my night, rather than the rapidly expanding terror in my heart. “I told you. I came in a limo; there is no way I can travel on a two-wheeled death machine.”
Jethro rolled his shoulders, maintaining his cool. “I gave you one rule—never ask questions. I’m giving you another—don’t ever argue with me.”
My heart raced. Glancing around, I searched for late night stragglers, party goers, moon-light walkers—anyone who could intervene and save me. The roads were empty. No one. Not even a scurrying rodent.
“Please, I don’t know what game you’re playing—”