Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
"If you don't start the damn vehicle, we're both going to suffocate."
I freeze at the sound of the masculine voice behind me, all the while wondering how big of an idiot I have to have been not to make sure I was alone before climbing inside. Now I'm trapped with an angry man with no means of escape.
Chapter 25
Heathen
I swear I don't think I've ever met a less observant woman than her.
I'm not ducked down, hiding in the back of the SUV. I'm sitting in the middle of the second-row seat, and I'm not even close to being a small guy.
It's clear by the way she freezes when I speak that she had no fucking clue I was back here.
Her eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, but instead of looking relieved, her eyes narrow and I can see her grow increasingly annoyed.
"You scared the shit out of me," she says, ire lacing her tone.
"You shouldn't be allowed out of the house unsupervised," I growl, wondering just how easily it would be for someone to victimize her with how unobservant she seems to be.
"You don't own me. I can leave anytime I want," she argues.
"I'm not telling you that you can't leave, but if you don't become more aware of your surroundings, I'm going to tie you to our fucking bed and never let you leave."
I swear my cock stirs in my jeans when her reflection lifts an eyebrow, as if she's challenging me to do just that.
"I fucking swear, Kaylee," I snap. "I could've been some psycho back here."
"You're blaming me for your lunacy?" she says, spinning around in the driver's seat so she can face me head-on. "Well if that isn't the most narcissistic thing I've heard all damn day."
"Do you know how easy it is to abduct a woman? Sell her into sexual slavery?"
She's distracted, her eyes locked on my lips, and I'm afraid she isn't hearing a damn word I'm saying.
"Kaylee Burke!" I snap.
Her eyes jolt up to mine.
"My name is—"
"Kaylee Burke," I growl. "As in mine, woman. You're mine, if only for a little while, and during that time, I need you to be more cautious and attentive about your surroundings."
"Okay," she whispers, and I swear her tongue might as well be on that sensitive skin right under the head of my cock for how her quick agreement makes me feel.
"Okay?" I ask, a little flustered with this entire situation.
"I'll do better." Her words are soft, her distraction increasing as her gaze drifts back down to my mouth.
"Turn around, put your seatbelt on, and drive us back to the house," I say evenly, my control declining by the second.
She does exactly what I tell her to do, and there's just something about her obeying me that makes my skin come alive.
"You'll park to the far side of the garage," I instruct as we wait a few minutes for the gate to the property to fully open.
"Will you back the vehicle in later?"
"I'll take care of it," I tell her as she pulls up where directed and places the gear shift into park.
I scoot forward so I can be closer to her.
"Leave it running," I command when she reaches toward the button to turn the ignition off.
She stares straight ahead, her chest heaving, as if she already knows where this afternoon is going to go.
I know there are cameras all over the property, so I know that the ones pointed in this direction are behind where I've had her park. There's no way anyone with access to the feeds can see what's going on inside this vehicle. I can't say the same for the neighbors whose property sits behind this one, but the ten-foot-tall fence seems to be enough to hide us from anyone trying to take a peek.
I rest my chin on her shoulder, looking down the line of her body, all the while resisting the urge to wrap both arms around the seat and cup her perfect breasts in my hands.
"Lift your skirt," I tell her, grateful that she's wearing some of the clothes I left for her in the closet.
She hesitates for a few seconds, and I notice the tremble in her hands as she reaches for the hem of the fabric.
"Are you afraid?"
She shakes her head. "Nervous."
The word is a whisper, a confession of vulnerability, and I'm so glad she trusts me with it.
"Do you want to stop?"
Another shake of her head makes me smile.
"Any other confessions you need to make?" I ask when she shifts her weight enough in the seat that I can see the wet spot her body is making between her thighs.
We used the same bodywash after our mutual orgasms in the shower this morning, but I swear it smells completely different on her skin than it does on mine, and it's insanely intoxicating.