Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 37123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 148(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Dark, close-cropped almost shaved hair, those piercing blue eyes of course, a chiseled, slightly scruffy jaw, and absolutely perfect lips.
Yeah, my kidnapper might actually legit double as a fucking model.
His eyes burn hotly into mine, and a shiver slowly trembles through me as my pulse hammers in my ears. I force myself to glare at him, anger covering fear and whatever other shameful feeling he’s making me feel right now.
“Listen to me,” he growls deeply, his voice this rugged, smoky baritone. I swallow, narrowing my eyes even more at him. And almost infuriatingly, he smiles.
“We can do this two ways. You can sit in the car like a normal person and keep quiet while we drive out of here.”
Oh, fucking sure.
“Or if you don’t think you can handle that, there’s always…” his eyes slide to the back of the car and the popped trunk, and my stomach sinks.
Oh, fuck that.
“Fuck you!” I spit at him. But of course, through freaking panties and a bandana, it sounds like utterly ridiculous mumbles.
The gorgeous asshole smirks.
“I’m not here to hurt you, sweetheart. But you are coming with me.”
He reaches for me, and the last of my fighter instinct kicks in.
“Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit!” I bellow through my gag as I lunge foreword and slam the top of my head into his face. He grunts, and I know I’ve hit his nose based on the stream of swears. He snarls and pushes me back, pinning me to the car at arm’s length.
He glares at me, a little drop of blood trickling from one nostril.
“Right, so trunk it is.”
“Wait, no!”
I scream, kicking and squirming as he grabs me. But c’mon, who am I fooling—the man towers above me and must be twice my weight in pure muscle. He lifts me like I weigh freaking nothing, effortlessly hauling me to the back of the car.
I’m still screaming and thrashing as the gorgeous kidnapper sets me down in the trunk, gives me one last piercing, smoldering look, and the shuts it.
The car rumbles to life a second later, and my heart is still racing like a train as we start to move, going who knows where.
…Who knows where, naked, in the trunk of a car driven by possibly the most sinfully attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Yeah, there might be something very, very wrong with me.
Chapter Three
Nicole
I swear a muffled swear as the car jerks around a corner, tousling me into the side of the trunk. I grunt, hissing as my bruised shoulder takes the brunt of it before gasping as the car seems to take off like a rocket. In movies and books, the person who gets kidnapped is always trying to remember the turns, or count seconds or something—I think it’s supposed to help remember where you were taken to if you ever get rescued.
But, please.
I’m naked and tied up in the back of a fucking car—believe me when I say I have no fucking idea what right and left turns we’ve taken.
When we start to move faster though, I’m pretty sure it means we’re on the highway, which just sends another bolt of fear through me. The highway could mean we’re going anywhere.
The car keeps moving, and I just ball up, huddling in my stupid towel and trying not panic. I try and remember back on law school application test questions to try and calm my racing heart, but it hardly helps. All I know is, I have no clue where I’m going, who the man who took me is, or what the hell he wants.
…Or at least, I want to tell myself I have no idea what he wants. Because if I do start to really think about what he might want with me, I’m not sure I’ll survive the panic attack it’ll bring on.
The car slows and then turns. We drive for another little while before turning again, and I can hear a sound that can only be gravel under the tires. The car slows even more, creeping over the gravel or stone, until finally, it stops. The engine turns off, and suddenly it’s absolutely silent.
My heart races.
I hear the sound of a car door, and then nothing. And then still nothing.
Did he just leave me?
Without even thinking, I start to scream, twisting to slam my feet against the trunk. I just keep screaming and kicking, hoping someone might hear me or see the shaking back of the car and start asking questions. I’m still kicking when I hear footsteps on the gravel, and then a key sliding into the lock. I lash out one last time just as the trunk swings open, and this time, my feet kick nothing but air.
Instantly, I look up into his piercing eyes, and my face burns hot with embarrassment. I blink, my eyes still used to the pitch black of the trunk. But I quickly remember that it’s night outside too. My eyes slide back to his, and I shiver again as his sheer attractiveness hits me like a slap to the face.