Page 62 of Stolen By the Billionaire
Maybe she was safer with Blaze than alone on her farm.
Just for a few days.
Just until the Monsanto guys, or ConAgra, or whoever, forgot about her and left.
The ropes were soft around her knees and under her palms, and she picked one up, holding its silken length across her palm.
Maybe she could ask him to make another phone call.
18
Logan, Part II
Blaze
Blaze paced around his bedroom, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows and sliding glass door at the swimming pool’s shimmering surface lit by floodlights in the night.
Frantic energy still infested his body.
He’d jacked off twice in the shower after leaving Sarah kneeling on the floor, scarlet and gold silk ropes puddled around her bare legs. He needed to go for a run but didn’t want to leave Sarah alone in his house barely an hour before midnight, not with the White Russians looking for her.
So he paced.
Somewhere around his three-hundredth trip around his room, his phone charging on his nightstand rang.
He snagged it as he walked by. The screen read Logan. “Hello?”
“Is she with you?” Logan demanded.
“Yes, and she’s as goddamn stubborn as you are,” Blaze told him.
A whoosh through the phone sounded like Logan had sighed, though a grinding noise rushed through the speaker behind his voice. “So she’s safe?”
“Yeah, and the bastards creased me. Thanks for asking.”
Logan chuckled. “Did it mess up one of your creepy tattoos?”
“As a matter of fact, it did.” The one for Operator Xun Wu, Mali.
“Fine, I’ll pay to get it re-inked. But she’s safe?”
Considering what had just happened in his office, absolutely not. “Yes.”
“Don’t forget she’s my sister, jackass. Keep your fucking hands off her. She’s as pure as the driven Iowa snow.”
“You haven’t seen her for a decade and a half, and from what she tells me, you haven’t spoken to her since you left that farmhouse in the middle of the night when she was seven years old.”
“I know Kalona, and I knew my parents. They hand-selected her friends, probably all Amish or from their regressive Russian Orthodox church. She probably only knows about birds and bees from watching horses and cows. You keep your kinky shit away from her.”
“Logan, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Blaze lied.
After how beautiful and submissive she’d been during that kinbaku session, Sarah was going to invade his dreams every night for years.
Which was preferable to his other dreams.
“I swear to God, if you touch her, I will kill you myself,” Logan growled at him.
Blaze’s British accent from his days at boarding school, which he consciously repressed, reasserted itself. “That’s a brave statement.”
