The Woman in the Trunk

But not yet.

Not even if my body felt like it was crying for relief.

She came back to her senses slowly at first, then all at once, her breathing slowing down, her grip loosening. Then she was slamming backward away from me, her chin raising, her eyes blazing again, angry that she wanted me, that I knew it, that she had responded to me just like we both knew she would.

"I guess I got my answer," I said, knowing I was goading her. What can I say? She was hot when she was pissed.

"I fucking hate you," she told me, jaw tight, lip starting to tremble with her anger as my fingers slowly slipped out of her, out of her panties and pants.

"You might hate me, baby," I said, raising my hand upward, slipping my fingers into my mouth, watching as shock gave way to desire again as I licked her taste off of them. "But your pussy loves me," I told her as my fingers left my mouth. "Now get your ass in the car," I added, taking a step back, reaching behind her to yank the door open.

"No."

"You want to play it that way?" I asked, shaking my head.

"I want you to try to make me," she told me, jaw tight. "I can make a big scene," she added, thinking she had the upper hand.

Her stubborn ass was a glutton for punishment, I realized as she opened her mouth to scream, making me slap my hand over it and grab her, yanking her around so that her back was against me, my arm anchoring around her stomach.

"This is going to happen, Gigi. Like it or fucking not. You don't have a choice in the matter. The only choice you have now is if you are going to behave, so you can ride up front like a human being, or if I need to throw you in the trunk again like spare luggage. You understand me?" I asked, waiting, feeling her body sizzle with anger. "I asked a question," I repeated, giving her a small shake.

To that, she nodded.

"You want to ride in the trunk?"

A head shake.

"Good. Then keep your fucking mouth shut when we go outside."

Really, I should have known better.

Than to take her at her word.

To think her pain in the ass self was capable of playing along. Even when she clearly had no advantage, when we all knew how this was going to play out.

The second we moved outside, she started to scream, making me drag her back inside as Chris went to grab the cuffs and the duct tape.

When I put her in the trunk, her gaze was on me, eyes fucking fuming.

I had a feeling that the second she was free, she was going to try to fucking claw my eyes out.

And I didn't want to know what it said about me that I was turned on just thinking about it.Chapter EightGianaI would never get that image out of my head.

His fingers.

His mouth.

The way he looked at me while he did it.

God, even the memory was making me need to press my thighs together to ease the aching between.

Even as I swore I hated the man.

Maybe there was some truth about the thin line between hate and love. Well, not love. Obviously. But attraction. After all, what was hotter than anger?

The car took the third hard corner in a row, making it abundantly clear that they weren't being done by mistake, rather trying to make me roll around the trunk, my arms clamped at the small of my back, making my shoulders scream.

He was trying to make a point.

He was always going to come out on top.

And, damn him, that seemed true, didn't it?

It bruised my pride to admit it, but I was no match. I wasn't a criminal. I wasn't born into this. I didn't have the skill set he'd likely learned at his father's knee. While I had been trying to help dig my father out of whatever mess he'd gotten himself into.

I didn't think like a criminal.

I didn't know how to disappear without being found.

And now?

Now, there was no way he was going to let me get away. There would be no unlocked doors. No unmanned elevators.

I was in this for the long haul.

With a man my body responded to even as my mind revolted.

I wanted to say I would cling to my hatred, that I would coddle and feed it, that there was no way I was going to let him get his hands on me again. At least not willingly.

But there was a little voice in my head whispering that I wasn't sure I would have any defenses if he looked at me with those heavy-lidded eyes, talked to me in that deep voice, said those delicious things.

It was weak and pathetic and I hated myself for it. But it was true.