Page 101 of Stolen By the Billionaire
Uh-oh.
Horror streaked across her brain.
Oh, motherfluffer. She’d made a sex sound.
And she’d bellowed it like a lost cow calling for her herd.
Cement poured into all her bones, stiffening her joints into a petrified rictus and smashing the soles of her feet to the floor. If she could have spontaneously combusted into a pile of ash, she would’ve begged God to immolate her right at that moment.
Blaze’s hands stilled, one cradling her jaw and the other palming the back of her head.
Maybe he hadn’t heard her.
Maybe the heavens had opened up, and God had smote them both. That would explain the lack of sound and movement, and being dead would definitely be an improvement over having to deal with how she’d bleated like a sick sheep.
They couldn’t just stand there, frozen like that. Sarah would melt into a puddle of embarrassed tears on the floor if they remained motionless.
He was probably aghast that Sarah had done something so gauche.
She was definitely mortified.
If any crickets had snuck into Blaze’s spotless garage, they would have been chirping in the appalled silence.
Oh, Lord. The anticipation was killing her.
Sarah cracked her eyelids to see how disgusted Blaze was at her mooing a sex moan at him.
His gaze was level and serious as he stared directly into her eyes. He didn’t even blink his eyelids over his blue, so-blue eyes that didn’t waver while he stared into her soul.
He didn’t seem horrified so much as concerned that she had made such a stupid sound.
This was how she was going to die. Yep, Mafia assassins were chasing her with the intent to gun her down, but what was going to finally get her was fatal embarrassment.
Blaze’s gaze didn’t move from where he was looking to her eyes, but he stroked her jaw with his thumb, the slightest movement that could be considered a caress.
Sarah kept looking back at him, her eyes too wide and vulnerable, and the moment stretched.
A response was the last thing Sarah would have expected.
Since he’d broken into her farmhouse, Blaze’s demeanor had been serious to the point of grim. He'd been solemn and meticulous about it when he’d tied her up with that silk rope that obviously had nothing to do with work. When he’d locked her in the gym to protect her, the stern rigidity of his expression had scared her. He’d been utterly professional when he’d walked out of the gym, armed, ready to kill anyone in his house.
If anything, she’d expected him to tell her to knock it off and walk away from her foolishness.
That caress against her skin, that gentle stroke, shocked her.
And it meant the ball was in her court.
She could pretend her moo and his touch hadn’t meant anything, maybe that she’d burped the weird sound. Excuse me. Too much pizza.
But they had meant something.
She wanted them to mean something.
Sarah’s hands shook, but she lifted her arms and slid them around Blaze’s waist. Her palms pressed the hardness of his muscled flesh through his button-down dress shirt.
He stepped forward and loomed above her, still cradling her face in his hand, and a heartbeat of a pause passed as he seemed to search her eyes, judging her.
She supposed she could push him away, but she didn’t.
