Take the Heat
Page 69
My heart beats frantically, like a trapped bird.
I don’t want this man’s attention, this man who fills up the space, who breathes enough oxygen for twelve men instead of one, leaving no air for me at all. Maybe if we were in the library and he needed help finding a book or looking something up, then yes. But not here, in this hallway, where Ms. Breck already implied I’m not safe.
Two sets of bars on the gate. Handcuffs. Two guards.
Just how dangerous is this man? What do they think he would do if there were only one set of bars, one pair of handcuffs, and one guard?
My heart pounds as the guards draw him away. He seems to loom over me as he passes, like a tree with a massive canopy. I stare hard at his face, at the blunt nose and firmed lips, at the scar that splits one brow and the brown eyes that never once meet mine. He just continues on, two hundred pounds of pure male like a massive puppet on a threadbare string.
“Ms. Winslow. Ms. Winslow.”
I jump, surprised to hear that the woman had been calling my name. “I’m sorry,” I say, as a strange sensation tickles the back of my neck.
The woman stands and begins pulling on her jacket. “I’ll take you the library now.”
“Oh, that’s great.”
That shivery sensation gets stronger. Against my better judgment, I look down the hallway, where the guards and the prisoner are walking away. They move as one--a column of orange with two thinner, shorter lines of black down the side.
The prisoner glances over his shoulder. His deep brown gaze searches me out, finds me. I stand still, pinned by a subtle challenge I can’t quite understand. Somewhat mocking. Faintly threatening. Though it isn’t his eyes that scare me in the end. It’s his lips, as he forms words that make my blood turn to ice.
“Ms. Winslow.” No sound comes out, but I hear him just the same, as clearly as if he’d whispered into my ear. Then he turns to face forward and disappears around the corner with his entourage.
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Fem Dom Series
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Dystopia Series