Okay, she liked him, enjoyed being with him when he wasn’t being a jerk and felt safe with him. He was her captor and she should flat out hate him, but she couldn’t.
The way she felt about him, the way her body responded at just the sight of him and the panic she felt when she was away from him only backed up his claims that they were connected. Hell, she felt connected to him, even more so since they’d had sex. It was frightening and just another reason for her to get the hell away from him.
“Planning to make your big escape now?” he asked dryly, looking bored, but she didn’t miss the way he watched her every move.
“You got me. While you’re devouring my breakfast I’m going to make a run for it on less than six bucks,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him.
“You’ve got ten minutes, Munchkin,” he said, turning his attention back to her food, but she didn’t miss the playful smile on his face. She liked when he smiled and took a break from being too damn serious. She might not know him all that well, but she knew without a doubt that the man was under too much stress.
It made her cringe to know that she was going to be adding to all that stress soon. Not today. No, today and probably tomorrow she was going to set up her new life via computer. She needed to create new ID’s, transfer her money and figure out where she’d like to hide out for a while. Somewhere tropical sounded nice, as long as their internet wasn’t slow and there was plenty of chocolate and Coke.
“I only need five,” she said as she walked towards the door, surprised that he wasn’t following after her. Then again she hadn’t grabbed her oversized duffle bag or chocolate so he was probably confident that she was coming back. He probably forgot about the two grand she had in her pocket and could use to get the hell away from him, but she wouldn’t. As long as he planned on staying here she would stay with him for protection and to get her plans in order, but the second he tried to drag her out of here and towards a future of isolation she was making a run for it.
Two minutes later she was standing in front of the large soda machine that dared to eat her money and deny her, her precious Coke. How dare it? she thought as she jiggled the money return slot.
Nothing.
“Oh, come on,” she said, juggling the slot harder.
“Need some help, sweetheart?” a man asked, barely drawing her attention away from glaring at the damn machine that was denying her her much needed caffeine fix.
She looked over her shoulder to find a large man, but then again every man was larger than her, with slicked forward blonde hair openly eying her ass like it was his favorite candy.
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said, hoping he’d just go away and leave her to beat the shit out of the soda machine in peace, because that’s what it was about to come down to. If it didn’t give her an ice cold twelve ounce can of Coke and soon she was going to beat the crap out of it.
“Let me help you,” he said smoothly as he put his hand on her lower back and prompted her to move aside only to slide down to her bottom and squeeze, hard.
“Hey!” she said, turning around and slapping his hand away, which might have been a mistake since it gave him a view of the front. His eyes locked on her br**sts and stayed there as he reached for her again.
“Stop!” she said, slapping his hands away.
“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. I’m just trying to help you,” he said, chuckling.
“Well, I’m all set, thanks,” she said, deciding she’d have to figure out another way to get her much needed caffeine fix and headed for the door only to find it blocked by bastard.
“Why are you in such a hurry to leave?” he asked in what he probably thought was a charming tone, but really grated on her nerves.
This wasn’t the first time some guy thought he could have a little fun with her because of her br**sts and figure. For whatever reason some men took one look at her figure and thought she was easy. She wasn’t. She had to feel comfortable with a man before she even let him hold her hand and that wouldn’t happen if the man ogled her.
She hated the way some men looked at her and treated her. They thought that just because she had big br**sts that she should work at a strip club and welcome their wondering hands. She remembered the first time some guy had tried to touch her. She’d been fourteen and he had to have been in his mid-thirties. He tried to corner her in an alleyway and thankfully she’d been able to outrun him.
“Why don’t the two of us go up to my room and get to know each other a little better, huh?” he suggested as he reached out to take her hand into his.
She moved back and out of reach, trying not to panic as she looked around for another exit out of the small room, but there was none.
“My husband might have a problem with that,” she said, wishing Chris hadn’t trusted her and insisted on coming with her. She could really use the big jerk’s muscles right about now.
The man shrugged reaching out for her and snatching her wrist. “What he doesn’t know won’t bother him,” he said, tightening his hold on her wrist to the point of pain and yanked her forward.
“Stop!” she cried as he leaned over to kiss her.
Just before his lips met hers he was yanked back from her with a hard jerk and flying across the room. He slammed into the wall and crumbled to the floor with a pained moan. Swallowing hard, she looked back towards the door to find Chris standing in the doorway looking ready to kill someone and she was very much afraid that that someone was going to be her, judging by the glare he was sending her.
Without a word he took her hand in his and yanked her out of the vending machine room.
“What about my Coke?” she demanded, needing her caffeine fix now more than ever.
He ignored her, which would have pissed her off if she wasn’t actually worried that she was finally going to be on the receiving end of that spanking that he kept promising her. Her ass ached just thinking about it.
She didn’t want a spanking and she sure as hell didn’t want to find herself handcuffed to the toilet for the next couple of days. If he tried to do either one of those things she was going to make a run for it that’s all there was to it.
“Maybe we should take the elevator,” she suggested when he dragged them towards the stairwell. Not that she couldn’t handle the stairs, but she felt the odds of having a witness or two were greater in the elevator.
Either he didn’t hear or her or didn’t care, because he kept up his stride towards the stairs, practically ripped the door open and pulled her inside. When she hesitated to go up the stairs, because frankly she really was in no rush for a sore ass and whatever else he had planned for her, he let of her hand, grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder.