I stilled, my head jerked around and I shouted, “No!”
That’s when I really started to struggle. I didn’t want to be cuffed to the bed, not ever again.
I pulled away, gained my feet and ran to the elevator, slapping the button, stopping and realizing too late that it sucked Luke had an elevator. It was cool until you had to make a quick exit. If you had to make a quick exit, you were screwed.
Foiled, f**king, again.
I whirled to face him while I waited for the elevator and watched as he approached me, shoving the cuffs into his back pocket. “I’m leaving,” I told him.
“No you’re not,” he replied, calm as could be.
“I am. You can’t keep me here,” I went on, not calm at all.
“Yes, I can.”
I didn’t want to admit it but I was pretty sure he could.
Shit!
He got up close just as the elevator doors opened. I had started edging back when he moved, faster than I’d seen anyone move before. One second, I was heading backward toward the elevator, the next second I was pinned against the wall by the side of the elevator.
Once again. I had to ask.
Why me?
“Luke, don’t!” I shouted, sounding desperate and not caring anymore. “Please don’t cuff me to the bed again.”
He moved away an inch and, with a quick tug at my shirt, the buttons down the front unsnapped all the way up.
Shit again!
I moved out the inch he moved away but he pressed me back to the wall with his body while his hand went inside my shirt at my midriff and then slid up my side sending happy tingles in its wake.
His lips came to mine, his eyes open and not leaving my own. “Relax, beautiful, I’m not cuffing you to the bed,” he said before his hand came around and he slid the shirt off my shoulder and down my arm.
“I’m not going to relax. I’m going to go home,” I told him while I wriggled my arm to get away from his hand. Unfortunately, this also had the effect of assisting my shirt to fall off one side.
“You aren’t goin’ home,” Luke said and I had to admit (to the secret, private place buried deep down where I buried everything else) that I loved it when he talked against my mouth.
“I have to go home,” I went on, still sounding desperate, still not caring and searching for an excuse, any excuse. “I have to check my mail and water my plants.” The last part was a lie. I didn’t have any plants. The first part was a lie too. I never got any good mail.
His head came up and he grinned at me and let me tell you, the grin was good. It was unlike any grin he’d given me. It was sexy and warm and there was something about his face, something I’d never noticed before but I was too freaked out to put my finger on it.
“You can water them tomorrow,” he told me.
“Tomorrow will be too late, they’re really thirsty,” I said and lifted both my hands and pushed against his shoulders (this, per usual, had no effect but I still kept at it).
“They die, I’ll buy you new plants,” he replied.
“I don’t want new plants. I like the plants I have,” I lied again.
“Then we’ll go tonight, after I make love to you.”
I stopped pushing, my heart stopped beating, my lungs stopped working, my knees wobbled and I stared at him.
“What did you say?” I whispered.
His mouth came to mine again, he brushed his lips there and then they trailed down my cheek to my ear. I tried not to do it but this made me shiver.