Page 64 of You Make Me Feel
I slow enough to turn around, and he’s so close my breath catches. Every cell in my body screams at me to run, but I can’t.
I’m mesmerized.
He’s so beautiful, even masked. I can see the sharp lines of his cheeks, the narrowness of his gaze.
I feel it washing over me, like he’s slowly assessing his next move.
He closes the distance slowly, unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. The sound of his thick, laced boots on the earth is maddening. I can taste the night air, sharp and green, the mix of salt and pine.
“Are you finished running from me?” he murmurs.
I take another step back, my chin jutting out. “No, I’m not,” I say roughly, then I turn and try to run again. I make it less than three yards before his strong hands close around my bare arms, the heat of them searing into my skin.
I let out a soft cry, and he laughs.
Bastard.
Then he pulls me back against his body, his hands wrapping around my waist.
“Got you,” he whispers, his voice low and dark. I can feel the thickness of him pressing into me, the hardness of his muscles as they contract around me, imprisoning me.
I try to wrench free, because that’s my job, after all. But there’s no escaping his hold. Okay, there’s one way. But the truth is, I don’t want to escape. It feels scarily good.
He pulls his mask off and leans down, his nose against my neck, and breathes me in like his life depends on it. God, that’s sexy.
“You’re going to be a good girl and do exactly what I say,” he murmurs, kissing my neck.
A shiver snakes down my spine. I feel like I’m on fire, burning from the inside out.
“Will you let me go if I do?” I whisper.
I swear I feel him smile against my neck. “Depends on how well you behave.”
“Okay,” I breathe. “I’ll be good.”
With his arms like a cage around me, he manhandles me into the forest. Far enough that if anyone came walking on the path they would never see us. It’s dark here, and a couple of times I stumble, but he holds me tight, lifting me up, protecting me.
“Put your hands against that tree,” he tells me, when we stop in front of a huge trunk. I do as I’m told, placing my palms against the rough bark.
“You scared?” he asks.
“Kind of.” It’s true. I’m scared and I’m turned on and I’m desperate to look at him.
“Good.” There’s a smile in his voice. He steps close enough for me to feel his body heat on my back, then heruns his fingers down my bare arms, leaving a trail of fire, before he runs them over my stomach, my hips, my breasts.
I let out a soft groan. My nipples are so hard they’re pressing against my dress. He runs his thumbs over them, pinches them.
My head falls back against his chest.
“You’re not wearing a bra.”
I shake my head.
“What about panties?”
“No,” I manage to squeak.
I hear his chuckle again. “Such a good little girl.” His voice is full of approval. God, I want this man so much.
