“Resistance is futile,” Sean drawled in amusement as Nicki prowled around the apartment, looking for a quick and easy exit. Sean wasn’t kidding when he said he had everything wired; the man took his security seriously.
It had become a bit of a game, really. She’d already been mildly electrocuted by the wires along the windowsill and brought to her knees by a high-pitched alarm that threatened to shatter her eardrums. Nicki wouldn’t have believed he could have a system that she couldn’t bypass easily, but nothing about Sean’s set-up was vanilla, out-of-the-box technology. Every last piece had been customized so that any attempts to disarm it in the traditional way would be immediately (and somewhat painfully) thwarted.
One thing was becoming increasingly obvious: Sean Callaghan was more than a simple garage mechanic.
“Who are you?” she asked, sliding onto one of the stools at the counter. Sean smiled, placing a plate of fluffy pancakes and fresh fruit in front of her. Her stomach growled loudly. As far as incarcerations went, this place was pretty sweet. Mind-blowing sex, simple but luxurious comfort, and – the small bite of pancake melted into her mouth – great food. But being a captive was still being a captive. As tempting as it was to stick around and play house, she had things to do.
“I could ask the same of you,” Sean answered smoothly.
Nicki’s only answer was to shrug. If he wasn’t sharing, she didn’t see why she should. Besides, these pancakes were to die for. And she was going to need her strength. She would be out of here soon. She might as well enjoy it while she could.
Sean was watching her intently. Nicki had the distinct impression she was being analyzed.
“What?” she finally asked through a mouthful of fluff.
“You’re not freaking out.”
She chewed, swallowed, downed the small glass of orange juice he’d placed in front of her. “Should I be?”
Sean leaned back against the counter, crossing his massive arms over his broad chest, and one ankle over the other. It was such a supremely masculine pose that Nicki found herself fighting a smirk. He was a damn fine looking man. And given his performance over the last few hours, he definitely earned the right to be a little smug. She wished she hadn’t made it quite so easy for him, though. It was somewhat demeaning to recall her begging pleas and whimpers.
“You were yesterday.”
Yes, she supposed she was. When she realized that Sean had come inside her she had panicked. But once she calmed down and did a little calculating she realized she was still protected. She knew she was clean – and Sean certainly seemed like the type to ensure he was as well. What her mind had trouble grasping this morning was that last night the thought of using a condom never even occurred to her. Even more bizarre, the minute possibility that she was pregnant did not horrify her nearly as much as it should have.
She shrugged, not knowing how she should respond to that. It seemed like Sean’s expectations were changing, which meant hers had to change as well. It was much easier to focus her attention on the plump, juicy strawberries that were currently calling out to her than on the heavy, emotional stuff.
“Got any whipped cream left?” she asked.
Sean’s eyes glittered. He had used quite a bit on her last night. With a masculine grace that had her clenching her thighs together, Sean retrieved the last canister from the fridge and topped her strawberries. His eyes dropped suggestively to her chest, prompting her to recall in vivid detail the way he had covered her nipples and licked her clean. The same nipples that were currently pushing against the material in a dramatic bid for his attention.
She eyed his lengthening shaft warily as she licked the cream from her lips. Beneath the thin pants he had slung low over those hips – God, she’d never seen a “V” that exquisitely defined before; there was no hiding those assets. He watched her watching him, growing more aroused by the second.
“Keep looking at me like that while you’re licking your lips and you will not get to finish your breakfast,” he warned. Even his growl had her girl parts snapping to attention. It was a low, almost feral sound that shouted out a great big “hey” to her erogenous zones.
As delicious as an encore sounded, she meant to keep her wits about her this morning. No more losing herself in the mindless throes of passion; she had to finish what she came here to do, and time was of the essence.
She quickly pulled her eyes away from his impressive package and focused on the tattoo on his bicep. It was a breathtakingly intricate Celtic design, with some sort of detailed mechanical device in the center that reminded her of a Da Vinci sketch.
“Tell me about your tat,” she said.
“Family crest,” Sean answered, his voice slightly rough. “Yours?”