Page 7 of Run, Little Thief

I don’t take my eyes off him while we move in slow circles. Not until I see an opening. A chance.

Then I bolt for the exit.

Three steps. That’s all it takes for him to catch me.

Strong arms grab me from behind and pull me back.

“No!” I kick and scream, driving my elbow into his rib cage, but he doesn’t falter.

He rips off my bag, and it lands on the floor next to us.

“Let go of me!”

Without mercy, he drags me to the altar and pushes me against it, pinning me between the cold stone and his hard body.

“I’m not in the mood to play games,” he rasps from behind me, his Argentinian accent suddenly coming through.

“No?” I squirm, trying to get him off me. “Because I’m pretty sure your cock pressing against my arse right now begs to differ.”

To emphasize my words, I arch my back and push my behind against him. And because it feels dangerously good.

He hisses beside my ear. His hot breath tingles against my skin, making the tiny hairs on my neck stand on end—with excitement and a lingering fear that settles deep in my bones, because I barely know anything about this man, only the rumors about his cold, cruel ruthlessness.

He could fuck me right here on the altar in the middle of this abandoned church.

He could slit my throat with his knife before I take my next breath without me even seeing it coming.

He could torture me by cutting off my fingers one by one. Or bury me alive in the graveyard next to the church just like his last victim.

“Where are the files?” Once again, his blade hovers over my rapidly pounding pulse.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve got the wrong person.”

“Then why are you running?” His blade caresses my skin without hurting me, but one deep breath, one wrong move, and it’s over.

The tip travels down my throat to the neckline of my shirt, sharp enough to cut through the material.

Oh, no, he won’t . . . He wouldn’t dare.

Something in the air shifts between us the second his blade slides through my shirt. Without missing a beat, Reaper slices it open from top to bottom.

What the fuck?

My heart beats erratically. My skin prickles. My body hums.

What the hell is happening to me?

When his blade arrives at my trouser button, he moves it aside, out of my reach.

Suddenly, his fingers are back, continuing what he started with his knife.

“Don’t,” I warn, but he ignores me and opens the button. Then he unzips my pants ever so slowly.

My heart is racing so fast now I’m sure he can feel it, just like I can feel his. His heartbeat is infuriatingly slow and steady just like his whole demeanor. Me, on the other hand? I’m melting and dying inside as his rough fingertips trace my panty line like a warning.

A warning I shouldn’t be enjoying so much.

“Still don’t know what I’m talking about?” he taunts.