“So you want me to teach you how to escape a knot?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“As if you’re being trained?” he adds.
“Just like a Vigilante would,” I say.
“Then get naked,” he says.
“Wh-what?” I stumble over the question. What does that have to do with escape training?
His voice is calm and impassive. “A Vigilante doesn’t question her training.”
I hesitate. “If I do well, will you let me stay?”
“Get naked,” he repeats.
It’s a test. I won’t fail it. I’m shy and a little embarrassed, but this is moving me in the direction I want to go. So I’ll do it.
I kick off the shoes. The barn floor is rough and littered with loose hay. I lean down and set the coil of rope on the floor.
I reach behind me for the hook of the bra. I fumble for a moment and realize my hands are shaking. I don’t know how far this is going to go, but I’m going to agree to anything Jax asks. This is my one shot at convincing him to keep me, and I’m not going to be afraid.
The straps slide down my arm, and I let the bra fall to the floor. I resist the urge to cover myself.
“Stand up straight,” he orders.
I realize I’m hunching over, as if my shoulders could come forward and hide me. I lift my chin and let my arms dangle loosely at my sides. My chest comes out, the taut nipples out in front.
Jax leans back on his elbow in the hay. “Panties.”
I stick my thumbs in the straps.
“Slowly,” he adds.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. I ease the thong down my thighs. My hair is almost dry now and tickles my skin as I bend a little to push the panties past my knees. When they fall free, I stand tall again.
“Come closer,” Jax says.
My heart hammers in my throat. I take a step toward him, close enough that he can reach up and touch me anywhere.
His hand wraps around my ankle and slides up my calf. I can’t breathe, the sensuous feel of his palm against my skin is so intense.
He reaches my knee and keeps going, up my thigh. I can feel my pulse between my legs, and the hot wetness there, waiting for him. I’ve never been touched there by anyone, and the need for it is so great that I want to bend down and meet him halfway.
But without warning, he smacks the bend at the back of my knee. It drops me into the hay, right on the shawl I left a minute ago. In a flash, both my wrists are encircled and over my head, pinned by his iron grip. His naked chest brushes against my breasts and I’m so shocked by how quickly he got me down that I cry out.
“You want to learn to escape from this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “That’s what I want.”
His face is inches from mine. His eyes linger on my lips, and I wonder if he is thinking of kissing me again. I want him to, need him to. It’s a fiery desperate longing I don’t think I can contain. My chest heaves from my labored breaths, creating a friction where our skin touches.
“You made one constrictor and four slipknots in the car,” he says. “That was your mistake.” He glances up. “Let’s lash you to something.”
He reaches beneath me in the hay and scoots my body, shawl and all, closer to a post.
The rope hisses as he slips it around the rough wood. I can’t see the knot he ties. I can’t concentrate on that. His chest is so near, hot and bare. I want to touch it but I’m bound. I arch a little to reestablish our contact.
