Gun girl. “In this case it would be true. I don’t need to fake it.”
All this time he’s still inching closer and everything in my body says to run. Run, run, run. As far away from this man as I can get. But the fight in me doesn’t give up so easy. The fight in me likes to stand and give it my best. The fight in me can be stupid at times.
“So arrest me, gun girl. Is that who you are? Their gun girl?” He winks. “Or mine?”
“I’m no one’s girl.”
He smiles a charming smile, his eyes bright with possibilities. “You sure about that?”
“Why come here tonight? Feeling guilty? You’re some kind of psycho who wants to play a game? Am I your opponent? Do you really want to play with me? Because I assure you—”
And then here he is. Right in front of me. Standing so tall and ominous, I have to look up and take a gulp of air.
“Who says I’m playing?” His face is shadowed, but I can picture his features. That unruly dark hair, wet from the rain. The cold wind whipping it up around his face. His equally dark eyes with that spark of amber in them. His lips, brushing against my neck in that cave. His breath, tickling me and fooling me into thinking he wasn’t going to hurt me.
Scary, creepy fucking guy. Yeah, he’s got serial killer written all over him. So why are you still standing here talking to him?
He’s tall, and I feel so small looking up at him, so I lower my eyes. His suit is tailored to perfection so that the white shirt under his jacket pulls across his chest, revealing hard muscles underneath.
He reaches up and I flinch, look back up at his face. This makes him smile. I force myself to stand absolutely still as he rests the back of his gloved knuckles against my cheek and then sweeps them downward. “I love the dress, Molly.”
Jesus Christ. He’s coming on to me. “Why did you come here?”
“And I love what’s underneath it too.”
I grab his wrist and twist my body, ready to throw him over my shoulder, but he grabs me by the waist and twirls me around—pressing his chest into my back, holding me close as he whispers in my ear. I freeze. The memory of that kiss back in his cave is the only thing on my mind.
“I’ve missed you more than you will ever know.”
“Let go of me,” I snarl, turning my body. But he grabs both of my wrists and pins them to my stomach.
“Tell me what happened that night.”
“You drugged me!”
“No, gun girl. That other night.”
“What other night?” Jesus. Has he done this to me before?
He lets go of my hands, twirls me around again, and then pushes me up against the cold stone pedestal, repositioning his hands on either side of my head and boxing me in. I can smell the leather from his gloves. I can feel the beat of his heart as he presses his chest against mine. I can hear the soft in-and-out breath of air as he maintains control.
I could get away right now if I wanted. I could knee him in the balls, grab his head and bang it down on my knee, and run back into the maze, screaming for help.
The problem is, I stay right where he puts me.
His hand glides down the curve of my neck and then he plays with a wisp of hair that fell down. “Why are you doing this?” I ask.
“I didn’t fuck you last weekend, but I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.”
I push him back with a two-handed shove to his chest and slap his face. Hard. The crack of my hand against his cheek echoes, and a girl laughs from somewhere in the maze. “Don’t talk to me that way, asshole.”
He just smiles, even as a red handprint forms on his face. “Never say never.”
“And if you call me gun girl one more time—”
“You’ll what?” he challenges, staring down into my eyes with such a glare, I have to look away.
“Just tell me what you want,” I say. My heart is beating so fast now.
“I just did,” he whispers, leaning down into my neck and tickling me with his breath as his words travel across my skin. “I want to fuck you. And I want to do it right now. Before we go any further. Before I tell you anything else. Before you have a chance to change your mind.”
“You are some piece of work,” I say, dragging my eyes back to meet his. His gaze is so intense, it makes me want to hide. “You’re crazy if you think I’m even considering it.”
“You’re right. You’re not considering it. You’ve already agreed or you’d be out of here. You’d be running away as fast as your pretty feet could take you. You’d be screaming for those people in the maze to help you. You’d be gone, Molly Masters.”
He tugs the skirts of my dress up my thigh.
I swallow hard again, and a moan comes out of my mouth.
“Give in tonight, Molly. And I’ll give in tomorrow.”