His gaze snapped to me, eyes hard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, you’ve either never been in a relationship, or it’s been so long you’ve forgotten how it goes. If we’re supposed to be in love, you have to be affectionate.” I leaned back, finding his eyes, still confused by the color blue staring back at me, trying to see if he understood. “Kiss me.” My voice was loud enough that time so that those around us would hear. I even played it up with a pout and batted my eyes lashes. I then made patterns with my fingers on his chest. “He was only looking at me, baby. You get so jealous.”
He leaned forward in a rush, his lips meeting mine, and that wonderful humming feeling moved through me. The kiss was softer than the passion filled one of the parking garage but somehow still intense and full of unknown promises.
We continued to kiss, light and playful. Delightfully teasing as we tasted each other. A whole other man had me in his arms. Sensual and needy.
He stopped, his forehead resting against mine. “Fuck, Lacey, I want to shove you against that wall and fuck you so hard everyone in this airport will hear you screaming.”
Lacey?
The heat in my blood cooled off.
Everything was a mass of confusion and a maze of emotions.
Lacey wasn’t my name, but I realized he would never call me Paisley again.
Paisley was his captive while Lacey was his companion. Both the same and both marked for death.
Eight hours on a plane with a killer. Nothing to be worried about.
Right?
I couldn’t stop staring up at the huge steel structure. It was larger than I ever dreamed. The one-third scale version at Kings Island couldn’t compare to the real thing—the Eiffel Tower.
My kidnapper had taken me over four thousand miles from home. Not only that, I was staring out our hotel window right at the magnificent Paris icon.
No dive motel. It probably cost over a grand per night. The view alone was worth that, and the hotel was pretty swanky as well. There was a four-poster bed with lavish and plush bedding. No springs in my side there.
Near the window was a sofa and chairs with a few side tables, giving me the perfect lookout over the city. Just past the sitting area was a desk and chair, which Six turned around so he was always looking out over the room and keeping tabs on me.
“I’m surprised we’re not in some back-alley special,” I said, still stunned, as I sat in the chair and continued to scan the skyline.
He said nothing, but that was usual Six style. It was like talking to an old dog with selective hearing. They couldn’t hear you calling their name, but they sure as hell heard the piece of food drop onto the floor two rooms and thirty feet away.
“Come on,” he called after a few minutes. “We don’t have much time to get ready.”
He could’ve killed me then if he wanted, and I wouldn’t have minded. Seeing any part of Europe was another item off my bucket list.
We arrived two days prior, and while I was getting over jet lag, Six was finding out the next move. It seemed we were pressed to get ready for who knew what.
Walking to him, I noticed he’d pulled out the insanely expensive designer-I-couldn’t-pronounce bandage dress along with the Louboutins.
“Look at me.”
I did as he asked.
“I can dress you up, but if you can’t play the part, you’re just an average woman in expensive wrappings.”
Ouch.
“What part am I to play for you today, Master?” I asked in a sweet, high tone.
His eyes narrowed into a glare. “Money infused arm candy.”
“Are you my sugar daddy?” I smirked.
His jaw ticked. “Shut the fuck up. I don’t have time to shove my cock down that obnoxious mouth of yours.”
Ah, there was my murderous charmer.
“Am I going for high-class whore or bitchy socialite?” There was a distinction, after all. And if I was to play the part, it was an important detail.
“High-class socialite whore who knows to be fucking quiet and not say a word. Look fuckable. Draw attention away from me.”
Wearing the outfit laying in front of me, there was no doubt I was going to draw attention. The short, skintight dress aptly resembled a cage, thanks to the shapes the black bandage sections formed over the cream and white geometric print. Add the black patent leather peep toe Louboutins and it was a combination to call all men.
Hopefully I could pull the look off. I was a scrubs girl. It was what I wore daily. Dressing up was a rare occasion, and never anything as expensive as what laid before me.
Before changing though, I clipped my hair up and took a quick shower. There was no way I was putting that dress on without one.
I toweled my skin dry, then threw the towel onto the bed. From inside my suitcase I pulled out a sexy set of lingerie that he’d picked out and were probably best for the dress. Before I could attempt to put them on, Six grabbed them from me and shoved the dress at me.
“No.”