Cuffed (The Untouchables MC 1)

It didn’t hurt or scratch my skin though. It kinda tickled.

He sat back and raised his eyebrows.

“Well, go ahead.”

I grabbed the clothes and ran for the bathroom. I half expected him to stop me. To tell me to change in front of him. To make sure I wasn’t hiding a weapon.

Or a bobby pin… Too bad I didn’t wear my hair in an updo or something. Not that I was good at picking locks. But I did know how.

Note to self: next time you plan to get kidnapped, put your hair in French twist.

My hands fumbled with my clothes, grabbing a washcloth to clean my face with cold water. I rubbed the damp cloth under my arms and between my legs before throwing the clothes on.

I had this crazy feeling he was going to break the door down at any second.

When I came back out, he was on the couch, thumbing through one of my books. It was a racy romance novel that I’d read half a dozen times. I flushed and grabbed for it.

His fingers brushed mine and I gasped as our eyes met. He was smiling at me knowingly. Like he knew all my secrets.

I yanked the book out of his hand and glared at him. He held up the cuff and I rolled my eyes. But I lifted my foot all the same. He never broke eye contact as he reached out and grabbed it.

He rested my foot on his knee and gently pushed my jeans up. Then he blew on the skin and I shivered. He mumbled ‘better if the skin is dry’ as he fit the shackle into place and locked it.

There. I was trapped. Again. And I’d willing participated in it this time. Semi-willingly anyway.

Why did I feel so safe then?

I sat down on the couch, realizing I was going to be stuck here alone and bored. He cleared his throat and set down a cellphone.

“I will text or call. You will answer.”

He smiled.

“It does not call out. It does not text out. It only receives. So don’t even think about it.”

I leaned back with a huff, refusing to look at him.

“Just in case you get hungry I made you a sandwich. Two actually. There is juice and soda in the fridge.”

My mouth dropped, staring at him as he stood to adjust his weapon and make sure he had his badge.

“Exactly how long are you going to be gone?”

“It could be a while.” He grinned and gestured to the book. “You have plenty of stuff to distract you while you eagerly wait for me to get back.”

“Eagerly?”

I chucked the book at him and he caught it.

“Maybe I’ll take it with me.” He gave me a long assessing look. “I could use the tips.”

My mouth dropped open. He could use… wait, what?

He slid the book into his jacket pocket. He never stopped looking at me as he licked his lips. I blinked as he shook his head and pursed his lips.

“Stay out of trouble.”

And then he was gone.

Connor

Those panties. Dear God in Heaven. Those sweet, sexy little white panties.

I’d taken my time going through her things, letting her sleep. It was still early but I was expected at the agency. I needed to hustle.

But I had taken my time with those panties. I’d folded all her clothes neatly. Even the underthings.

Especially her underthings.

Those I had folded twice.

I’d laid them flat on the bed, running my hands over them. Imagining her soft little pussy underneath. I was hard and aching as I laid them gently on top of the stack of clean clothes.

I had resisted the urge to sniff them. Barely.

Try not to be a total fucking creep, DeWitt.

I patted the book in my pocket. My witness had a dirty mind it seemed. Or she was curious about sex, at the very least.

I’d be more than happy to instruct her…

I groaned and adjusted my package. Great. Another day with an unrelenting hard on.

Just what the doctor ordered. Not. If the doctor had any feelings, he would prescribe twenty-four hours in bed with my little runaway.

Longer. A week. A month. But twenty-four hours was a good start.

At this point, I would take what I could get. Literally. Panties. Books. Anything.

I pulled into The Jar and closed my eyes. I knew Mason was inside, probably frothing at the mouth. Worse than that, Casey was going to freak when she found out what had happened.

Another Hell Raiser body. But this time, her guardian was a suspect. Lighting never strikes twice in my experience. And when it does, its a sign of something bad.

I walked inside and saw him immediately. He was cuffed and sitting at one of the tables, fuming while the place was scoured top to bottom by forensics.

Yellow tape was everywhere. Fingerprinting was useless but they were taking some samples. The place was pretty much overrun with federal agents.