“Sit down,” she insists. Her voice has an edge to it, like a schoolteacher who expects instant obedience.
I hesitate. I want to secure the doors, pull some weapons, set up a defendable position. But my legs aren’t involved in that decision, and I settle in the hay next to those enticing buds poking through fabric as thin as air.
I’ll listen to what she has to say, if only to keep looking at her.
3: Mia
Huh. It worked. Jax sits next to me in the hay.
I’m not stupid. I dropped the shawl in my lap on purpose. I don’t think I’m up for another lap wiggle, not with all the rejection handed to me on a platter in the last hour. But he’s here.
His shirt is off. I haven’t seen this much of him before. I’ve been at a disadvantage since I met him. He’s been in those expensive suits, like he’s headed to an office party, every minute of our time together.
Meanwhile I’ve been in shredded nightgowns, ropes, or high heels I can’t walk in.
Except now, in the barely there lingerie given to me by the women he hired.
My heart hammers, just looking at him. His chest is smooth and muscled. His arm muscles bulge, but not in a bodybuilder way. Just strong.
His belly is rippled, flat, and looks like planking is something he does in his sleep.
I want to keep him. I want him close. I know how he looked at me at the hotel. I know he wanted me then. I just have to figure out how to get back to that.
So I’m sitting in a cold barn on a pile of hay in a sheer bra and a thong. Time to go for broke.
“Do you have to take me home?” I ask.
“Mia. You know I have to.”
At least he’s admitting it. But I can’t go back there. I have nothing. No one. And this life? Narrow escapes. Car chases. Danger. It fits me. I know it.
I tear my eyes from his bare chest to glance around the barn. I won’t have much time to convince him that I am up for the task of being his sidekick. I rack my brain for something that will impress him.
Rope. There has to be some rope around here. The red silk one is probably in the car still, but I can’t let him go fetch it. He might change his mind about listening to me.
This is a barn. Rope is standard issue.
I spot a coil of it hanging on a hook near the main door. “I need you to teach me something,” I tell him.
His eyes meet mine. There’s not a lot of light in here, just the parts coming through the cracks, but I can see him well enough. He’s wary. Maybe a little tired. “What do you need to know?”
I stand up and let the shawl and his shirt hit the ground. His gaze locks on my body. I realize he may have misunderstood, and a jolt of fear mixed with excitement zips through me. Before he can say or do anything, I walk over to the coil of rope.
I can feel him watching. The underwear leaves nothing to the imagination.
I have to work hard not to feel ridiculous. Imagine me, small-town Mia, prancing around in tiny red lingerie around someone like Jax.
He waits, silent, observant. I take the rope off the wall and sense his interest pick up, even though I can’t see his expression from here.
I’m glad I’m not in the heels now. Tripping over my own feet would not add to this moment. But I have the feeling that the Phase One training shoes might be just as sexy to someone like Jax. Doesn’t matter.It’s what I’ve got.
I walk back over to him. Sitting in the hay, his face hits the level of my thighs. I have a terrible urge to move in very close, but I don’t know anything about that, how to keep him interested without looking silly.
I hold out the rope. “I want to know how you escaped my constrictor knot in the car.”
He doesn’t bother to pretend to look at anything but me. His eyes travel up my knees, thighs, and pause on the slender strings of the thong. The straps come together with a bit of sheer fabric that matches the bra and hides nothing, not the wisps of hair or the dark line he now seems fixated on.
I feel a rush of heat and a sudden wetness. But I’m used to it. I felt it from reading his letters. I’m not afraid anymore, although I guess I should be. I got on the shot in college, hoping for a love affair that never happened. So I’m not afraid that I’ll end up pregnant. But I might fear that I’ll like everything, love everything, need everything, and he’ll leave anyway.
