Wasting no time, she tugged on a thong and the leather leggings, hopping up and down until the dastardly snug material cleared her ass to rest low on her hips. She reached around to hook her bra, then shook her head. Surely he hadn’t meant that she couldn’t wear her bra. She already didn’t have a shirt.
Weighing her options, she shrugged off the lacy cups and slung the coat over her shoulders before fastening the belt and slipping into the stilettos. She took one quick second to admire them and nodded approvingly.
By the time she pulled up to the hotel and handed off the keys to the valet, it was six fifty-five. The humid breeze was a potent reminder that she was dressed in leather and a trench coat in the heat of summer. That combined with the weight of her nerves had her beyond frazzled and by the time she reached the concierge desk, she was sure her heart was close to exploding in her chest.
She cleared her throat and some unknown force pried the question from her lips. “Hello, um, could you please tell me which room Mr., uh, Welter’s room is? By any chance?” Her cheeks boiled, but the concierge smiled and slid a key across the desk to her without question.
“Two-oh-six. Second floor. The elevator is on your right, madam.” He gestured toward the glass lift and she nodded, clacking her way toward it without another word.
When she got to the room, she paused outside the doorway. Her palms were slick with sweat as she laid a hand on the knob and mustered up her courage.
Now or never. Fight or flight, at it again.
She slid the key in, and the door clicked open. Her breath caught along with it and she stepped into the room, heart hammering. Once inside, all her fears took a backseat, crowded out by her primary objective. Her instructions were to go straight to the safe and open it, so that was what she’d do. Whatever happened after that…well, that was what had her thighs shaking and her mouth going dry.
The room was pitch dark, and with a hesitant finger she reached out to tap the light on. The only source was a crystal chandelier that shone dimly over the wide, satin-covered bed. The space was warm and lavish, an unlit fireplace on the far side of the room with champagne chilling in a bucket of ice by a side table. A couple of chairs nestled close by the hearth.
And a safe, sitting unprotected near the wide oak wardrobe.
Her pulse bucked hard in time with every footfall, but she moved as quietly as possible. When she reached the wall, she dropped to her knees and entered the pass code she’d memorized. The lock tumbled beneath her fingertips and the door swung open.
Well, that was easy. She peered into the safe wishing she’d thought to bring a flashlight, but before she could get a look at the contents, she felt a tug on her ponytail. Soft at first and then with growing pressure as it was used to pull her to standing. A vise gripped her chest, and it was suddenly a struggle to breathe.
“Here to steal from me, are you?” Rafe’s voice was a low rumble, the thunder before a lightning strike, and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or even more nervous.
“What? You told me to—” She caught herself. Ah, so this was the game—she was a thief, and he her mark—and she was supposed to play it. It wasn’t hard to imagine. The man before her was a one-eighty from the man who had fed her cotton candy and kissed her on the Ferris wheel the night before.
One hand was still firmly gripping her hair, but the other had snaked toward her trench coat, pulling her back, flush against the hard, muscled expanse of his chest. Her voice was breathier than she would’ve liked when she spoke again. “I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’d appreciate it if you released me at once.”
His laugh was short and mirthless, sending a frisson of fear through her even as heat collected between her thighs. Damn, he was good at this.
“You think because you’ve got a pretty face and nice tits that I’m going to let you walk away? Sorry, that’s not the way I do business.” He shoved her toward the bed and she landed heavily on the silken mattress. If it hurt, she didn’t notice. She was too filled with roiling emotions, each competing for center stage. Fear, curiosity, and—to her chagrin—undeniable lust, almost vicious in its intensity.
She twisted to face him. He towered over her, black pants fitted to enhance the appearance of his strong thighs, chest perfectly contoured beneath a tailored white shirt. A wall of stone. Unbreakable.
His smile in the dim light was chilling as he stared down at her. He didn’t break eye contact as he raised a hand to deftly remove one cufflink and then the other, speaking while he worked. “If you were a man in my position, Miss…?” He raised his brows questioningly.
She racked her brain to supply a name despite the riot going on inside her and spit out the first thing that came to mind. “M-Mary. Mary Mack.”
Her heart tripped when his eyes twinkled, a grin tugging at his lips. She squinted, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. Then she glanced down at her clothes.
Yup, good old Miss Mary Mack.
All dressed in black.
Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she scrambled into a seated position. Only her second try and she was officially the worst temporary submissive in history. Would he call the whole thing off now that she’d effectively dumped a pitcher of ice water on their steamy start with her unintentional silliness?
To Rafe’s credit, and her everlasting relief, his eyes went flat in an instant, and ruthless Mr. Welter was back. “Do you take me for a fool, Ms. Mack? Plucking your alias from a child’s nursery rhyme. Do I look like a man to be trifled with?”
He prowled back and forth at the foot of the bed, never taking his gaze off her as he meticulously rolled each of his sleeves to expose his thick, muscular forearms. She swallowed hard, straightening her posture to meet his gaze head-on.
“Honestly?” She let her gaze trip over his body lightly and then shrugged. “You look pretty much the same as any other man to me.” She punctuated that with a cheeky wink. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Well, hot damn, Mary Mack was a firecracker, and apparently, Courtney wasn’t the only one who thought so. A grudging respect lit her captor’s face and she felt his approval from head to toe. Like she’d been out in the cold and suddenly found herself basking under the rays of the sun.
“Oh, I doubt you’ll disappoint. While I might look like other men to you, I can assure you that’s far from the case, and the thought that I might allow you to fail me is one I wouldn’t even entertain.” He leaned down, resting his palms on the covers of the bed to meet her eye to eye. “You will please me tonight, little thief. And once you’ve repaid your debt, you can leave.”
She wet her lips nervously and tried not to fidget beneath his scrutiny. “Debt? I didn’t even get to take anything,” she protested, moving to swing her legs over the side of the bed. “Heck, I didn’t even see what was in the safe.” Something about the way he was towering over her was unsettling as hell and the desire to stand was overwhelming, but the whipcrack of his voice had her freezing in place.
“Did I tell you to get up, Ms. Mack?” His brows drew together in a frown so fierce she had to look away. Still, she didn’t have to answer his stupid question if she didn’t want to. She firmed her chin and stayed silent.
“Whether you were successful in robbing me is of no importance. Your intent was to take what was mine. Now, as penance for your transgression, you will give me what is yours.”
She tamped down the anxiety and dug around for some Mary Mack spunk, managing a half laugh. “Not bloody likely.”
He stood tall, looking every inch of his six-plus feet and more, and then shrugged, quirking a careless brow. “Then I will take it.”
She didn’t know what possessed her, but nerves got the better of her, and her mouth started running of its own accord. “I’d like to see you try.”
Mon dieu, Mary, put a sock in it. The blood pounded in her ears as she waited for his response with breath held.
The corner of his mouth quirked upward, a stark contrast to the cool indifference in his eyes. “Interesting choice of words, because I’ve decided that you won’t be seeing anything at all.”
He slowly made his way around the side of the bed, every step bringing him closer, every step sending her pulse careening more wildly than the one before. When he finally stood directly before her, her whole world tilted. Her gaze flickered to his zipper and her mouth watered. She wanted him there again. Wanted to close her lips over that silky, thick head and draw him deep, one glorious inch at a time.
The yank on her ponytail was quick and sharp. A real attention-getter, and she found her head forcibly tugged back so she had no choice but to look at him.
“You’re a dirty girl, Ms. Mack.”
His voice was gruff, his breathing labored as he spoke. He was as affected as she was, and the power of that soared through her, lifting her higher.
“Normally I could appreciate that. But do you really think that a thief deserves the privilege of having my cock in her mouth?” His words sent a thick-as-molasses heat to settle between her hips. “You’ll have to work for that.”
The last thing she saw was his sinister smile, and then her world went black as he tugged something over her head.
Blindfolded.
Chapter Eight
Her palms went slick and the hair on her arms rose. The blackness was unnerving as hell and she reached a hand up instinctively to yank the scrap of cloth away, but his was there to greet it. He closed his fingers around her wrist and pulled it away.
“Leave it.”
His firm command stilled her struggles momentarily, but she couldn’t leave it. He could do anything to her like this. She was completely vulnerable, like a fish belly-up and ready to be gutted.
Right as she was about to let full-blown panic take hold, the fingers in her hair tightened, tugging once. Then again. Not hard enough to hurt. Just hard enough to feel. For some reason, it was enough. The contact centered her, gave her a focal point to cling to on this spinning, wild ride.
“Leave it,” he said again.
She focused on the sensation of his strong fingers covering hers. The grip of his hand in her hair. The sound of the breath sawing in and out of his lungs, and she knew with utmost certainty that he was every bit as vulnerable as she was right now. Two words and she could make this whole scenario come crashing down. Two words and it would be over.
Two words she had not a single intention of uttering.
She wriggled from his grasp and let her hand fall to her side, hoping the euphoria she was feeling didn’t make her voice tremble. “Fine then, Mr. Welter. You win. If you get off on bedding an unwilling woman who has no interest in you whatsoever, then go ahead.” Mary Mack had apparently picked up a British accent somewhere along the way, but she went with it. “I won’t stop you.”
Every nerve in her body was at full attention, waiting for his next move. He released her hair and a long moment passed in silence. What the hell was he doing? She tipped her head, straining to hear any sign of movement, but there was nothing. No sound, no new smell, though her senses seemed enhanced by her lack of vision. It was as though she was entirely alone.
After a moment, she worked up the nerve to call him by name, but there was no response.
Was this her punishment for asking questions? He’d left her here? Alone? Surely not…
Another thirty seconds passed with nothing but the sound of her own erratic breathing to remind her that she wasn’t deaf as well as blind. Then, out of nowhere, it all changed. The heady scent of his musky cologne filled her nostrils, the ambient heat of his body radiated against her skin, sending goose bumps up her arms.
He was close.
Close enough to touch, and she balled her fists to resist the urge to reach for him. She was his prisoner, not his date. She didn’t allow herself to remember how much she’d enjoyed that as well.