The elevator doors open.
“All right, let’s try this again. You will walk out of this elevator nicely this time.” I propel her through the door.
She allows it. “Where are you taking me?”
“To my room.”
Her footsteps stall and I have to tug her toward my door. “Why? What are you going to do with me?”
The truth? I have no idea.
I key open my door and thrust her through, following and shutting the door. She immediately turns around and tries to tug the door handle back open despite the limited movement allowed by her bound wrists.
I reach around to catch the knob and she shoves her ass back. My cock goes rock hard at the contact.
“If you keep rubbing that sexy ass against me, you’re going to be in a different kind of trouble.”
She freezes, breath catching and holding. But when she speaks, scorn laces her words. “Are you saying you’re going to rape me?”
It’s meant to shut me down, but her bravado turns me on even more. I cup her throat with one hand, not squeezing tight enough to scare her, but enough to hold her head in place against my shoulder as my other hand slides down the front of her short dress. I don’t hesitate—it’s not in my genes. I find the skin of her thigh and trace it up under her dress to cup her mons.
“Soaking wet,” I breathe against her ear, triumph punching my cock out against my pants. “Is it rape if you want it?”
“I don’t want it,” she lies.
I slip my fingers under the gusset of her miniscule panties and stroke along her honeyed slit. “Then I won’t touch you,” I lie right back to her.
She bites her lip against a moan when I dip a finger into her ready entrance. “No,” she says, but it sounds more like a yes than anything.
“No?” My finger slides out, drags up and circles her clit. Her hips jerk against me, and my hand closes tighter around her neck. “You want me to stop, baby?”
“Yes,” she pants.
I stop moving my finger but keep it there, her clit pulsing against my digit, giving her away. But I’m not going on.
I don’t force women, and she told me to stop.
Regrettably. I would love the privilege of getting Corey off.
I pull my finger away. “You tell me when you want it, baby, and I’ll give it to you good.” I don’t release her throat.
* * *
Corey
My hips writhe in a circle like I’m seeking out his hand again.
Traitorous body.
I’m so fucking confused right now, I can’t think straight. A minute ago, I was sure Stefano planned to throw me over the Hoover Dam. Now I’m in a different kind of trouble, as he so eloquently put it.
It’s a much preferred trouble, despite my protests.
“Come here.” Stefano hooks his index finger through the zip-tie holding my wrists and tugs me further into his suite like a farmer leading his cow. It’s the same style suite Sondra’s been staying in here, with a kitchenette and living room area.
He doesn’t bring me to the bedroom, but to the kitchen, leaving me at the table while he gets a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I lean my butt on the table because my legs are too wobbly to stand. Stefano returns and cracks open the bottle, holding it to my lips.
I lift my bound hands to take it myself and drink. “You got anything stronger?” I ask after I’ve downed half the bottle.
Stefano gives me that lazy grin and walks back to the kitchen, returning with a bottle of Glenlivet and two tumblers. He pours us each a couple fingers of scotch and holds one out for me. “Saluti.” He clinks his glass against mine.
I throw the scotch back, hoping the burn will scorch the memory of what happened upstairs right out of my mind.
“So, basically, I’m an accessory now.” It hits me like a concrete block on my toes.
Stefano shrugs like accessory to murder means nothing to him. “That would never hold.” He crowds into me, pushing my knees apart to stand between them. I still can’t figure out if this is seduction or a scare-tactic.
“So you’re not planning on killing me.” He already said so, but I guess I don’t believe him.
He reaches out to cup my face, his thumb brushing my cheek lightly. “Cara, if I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
I try to ignore the warmth his touch produces, the urge to nuzzle into his hand. It’s just because I’m in shock and I’ve lost my mind. “Why let me live? Because of Sondra?”
Stefano shakes his head. “I don’t want you dead.” He drops his thumb to my lips and traces them. I hold still because despite his assurance, I’m still his captive. The zip-tie on my wrists prove it. “I don’t kill innocents.” Something flickers behind his dark eyes. “Despite what you may think about me.”