A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,12
after a rest you’ll feel good as new.”
“I thought I killed you.” She flopped back on the bed as an anvil fell on her head. At least that’s what it felt like.
He disappeared back into the bathroom and emerged with a paper cup. “Drink it.”
“I can’t, my head hurts too much. What am I doing here?”
“I kidnapped you.”
“You’re an idiot. I’m broke, remember? Besides, my parents wouldn’t waste money on a ransom for me.” The cold emptiness threatened to close over her again. “Champagne, I need champagne!”
“That’s the last thing you need. Drink this water and I’ll get you some more. I’ll bet you’ve been drunk an entire month.”
“Best month of my life,” she rasped. Her head was too heavy to lift.
“I’m not going to have your death on my conscience, so your boozing binge ends right now.”
“What nonsense. Champagne isn’t booze. It’s made from squeezed grapes, you know. Healthy and delicious… Ow! Stop banging my head like that!”
“I’m not. I’m a good five feet away from you.”
The furniture shifted and twisted as she tried to focus. She could barely keep her eyes open. “Take me back to Zen Mind. I have yoga class at two and I can’t miss it.”
“Yoga’s over. You’ve been out five hours. I thought you’d never wake up.”
A hollow laugh rattled her ribs. “I’m almost sorry I did. Would have been fun to leave you with a body to dispose of.” Even in blurred half-vision he looked revoltingly handsome—all intense dark eyes and wild dark hair. Bastard. “Who am I kidding? You probably have experience disposing of dead bodies.”
“Stop talking and get some sleep.”
“I don’t think so! I just woke up, in case you’ve forgotten. And I can hardly relax around you. In spite of the fact that I nearly married you, I don’t have any idea who you are.”
“Someone who cares about you.” He said it softly.
Her heart tripped and she cursed herself for it. How many other things had he said to her with such breathtaking sincerity that had turned out to be—
“Utter bullshit!”
“It’s okay. I don’t expect you to believe a word I say. I’m just here to help you get dried out.”
“Get another towel then. My hair’s still wet.”
He walked into the bathroom and she rocketed off the bed toward the door. She was fumbling with the lock when he emerged with a curse. Suddenly she was on the floor, crushed under him.
“Ow, my head hurts. Everything hurts. Where’s my stuff?”
He picked her up and carried her back to the bed. Settled her down and tucked her in. His arms were strong and warm and she didn’t have the energy to resist.
“I brought all your things in a bag. I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice soothed her as he patted her hair with a white towel. “Get some sleep.”
She couldn’t find any more words, so she closed her eyes.
Lizzie crept back to consciousness, her mouth dry as a scoured pot. Water. Must get water. Thin light sneaking around the curtains suggested dawn.
The sound of breathing alerted her to the presence of her captor sleeping next to her on the bed. He lay on his stomach, one arm under his head, the other touching her pillow. Dressed only in a pair of blue boxer shorts.
She’d given him those shorts.
Humiliation flooded back on a wave of adrenaline.
She lifted her head and pushed aside the tangle of hair blocking her vision. His strong back rose and fell with the steady breathing of deep, dreamless sleep. A peaceful expression softened his masculine features.
She’d like to disturb that peace.
But first, she needed water.
She eased off the bed in incremental movements, anxious not to creak the mattress. Crept across the stiff carpet into the bathroom and eased the door shut. She stuck her head under the faucet and gulped back water in breathtaking icy swallows. Drank and drank and drank until it tasted like thick cream pouring down her throat.
At last she threw her head back and inhaled air. The sight of her face in the mirror made her gasp. Her hair, recently wet, had sprung back into a nightmare of tangled curls. Smudged mascara and eyeliner gave her eyes manic intensity. She scrubbed it off with the damp corner of a towel.
The skimpy T-shirt and shorts she’d had on yesterday hung over the shower rail, alerting her that she stood there in only her bra and panties.
He’d undressed her.
The thought of his fingers on her skin made her flesh creep with… With disgust, surely.