Page 91 of To Have and to Stalk
“Fuck me,” I demanded. I gripped his hands at my hips so he couldn’t pull back, grinding against him.
“I can feel you,” I said, pressing down against his rigid cock. “Youwantto fuck me.”
He forced me to stop, freezing me in place, hands on my thighs.
My breath caught, suspended in his gaze and in the thick tension of the car.
“Text your friends you got a Lyft,” he growled.
“Are you kidnapping me?”
“Yes.”
chapter
thirty-one
CALDER
Shay was asleep. In my bed.Fuck. On the drive up the mountain, she’d passed out in the car. It was now past ten in the morning, the sun was streaming icy through my windows, Shay still slept, and there was a man bound and tied in my trunk.
I hadn’tplannedon shoving him into my car.
Again, this is not how things usually went.
I didn’t usually keep my marks tied up in my trunk while I cooked my date breakfast. Usually I had them sign, bloodied them a little, and was on my way.
It was just that I saw Shay was at the club. And then I had to check on her. And then he was being a real fucking pain, refusing to sign the papers, and I didn’t have time to terrorize him because,what was Shay doing at the club?
And then she was fucking drunk, stumbling, unaware of how fucking cute she was when drunk, and the lechers who noticed. Of the ones who kicked off the wall, ready to play white knight in an attempt to take a drunk girl home.
So now, Joseph Singley sat tied up in my car. It had been only a few hours…I was sure he was fine.
I wondered if Shay had heard him last night?—
“It smells amazing in here,” Shay said from behind me. Her voice was soft and husky with sleep.
She came to my side. Facing the opposite way, leaning against the counter. Her hair was sleep-messed. Her makeup smudged under her eyes. Her thighs visible in the shirt I’d given her.
“What is that?” she asked.
“A macaron soufflé,” I said.
As well as a smorgasbord of breakfast pastries. Blueberry scones, the double chocolate muffins, egg-and-cheese croissants. I hadn’t slept—couldn’tsleep, with her here.
Her voice was low, breathy. “I can’t believe you remembered.”
My gaze snapped to hers. “I remember everything.”
Her eyes were a gorgeous, deep brown. Like smoky quartz, catching the light at certain angles to reveal glittering honey.
She swallowed and my eyes dropped to that. The hollow of her throat. I hadn’t tasted her there yet.
“Did you change me?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered, voice tight, gaze still locked on her throat. Faint freckles painted the hollow above her collarbone, like lace.
Tension coiled and slithered up my spine, knotting the muscles between my shoulder blades.
