The Outlaw Prince's Captive - Holly Rayner Page 0,48

them.” He laughed and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You’re not exempt just because you’re a federal agent, you know.”

He helped her back to her feet, keeping his hands on her, making sure she was stable.

“You saved me,” she said. “I don’t know what he was going to do.”

“I shouldn’t have let you come this way alone,” he said. “I’ve been here enough that I know there are shady characters. I should have told you to come home after the library, and that we’d walk over to the club together.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He shook his head. “If anything had happened to you, I don’t know what I would have done. You’re only doing all this to try to protect me. It would have been my fault.”

“Really, Viggo, it wouldn’t.” How could she have thought this man wouldn’t care if he hit someone with his car? That rough exterior—it was nothing more than a disguise. He was tenderhearted, through and through.

He closed his eyes. She felt a shiver pass through him.

Suddenly, the attraction she had been feeling since Konäs crashed over her like a wave. She couldn’t resist him any longer, and she didn’t want to.

What difference does it make at this point? We’ve already broken every rule.

The logic was only a formality. She was already on her toes, pulling his face down to meet hers in a kiss.

The moment their lips touched, Francesca felt as if sparks were shooting through her body. It was as if she had been out running again and couldn’t catch her breath. Her knees weakened, momentarily struggling to support her again. She tightened her arms around Viggo’s neck in an effort to hold herself upright.

Viggo’s response to her kiss was passive at first—he allowed the kiss but did not deepen it. Francesca was about to pull away, disappointed, and apologize for being so forward, but suddenly his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and shoulders and he pulled her closer.

His massive body took up so much space. It felt as if he was surrounding her. The alley around them seemed to have disappeared.

He kissed her desperately, hungrily, one hand moving upward to thread itself in her hair, and Francesca knew that she was lost. She couldn’t have ended this kiss now for anything in the world. If he had asked her to abandon the plan and go back to her apartment, she would have done it.

He pulled away from her, his eyes slightly manic. He was breathing hard, and Francesca realized that she was too.

“We should go,” he said. “We should—we have work to do.”

She nodded dumbly, feeling dazed.

“We don’t want to let this stupid haircut be for nothing,” he said, running his hand over his newly bald head.

That brought Francesca back down to earth. She shook her head, regathering her wits. “You lead the way, then,” she said.

Though it was cold outside, she put as much distance as she could between herself and Viggo as they walked the last few blocks to the club. She was afraid that if she allowed herself to get too close to him, her attraction to him would get the best of her again. How she was going to manage those feelings now that she had experienced his kiss, she wasn’t sure. Even now, she couldn’t stop thinking about the scent of his cologne, the touch of his lips, his firm hands on her body.

They approached the club, and she forced herself to put those thoughts from her mind. She was just going to have to focus on her job for now. There would be time later to organize her feelings.

Outside the club, a valet stand had been set up. It was currently being monitored by a dark-haired man who looked to be in his mid-twenties.

Francesca turned to Viggo. “Did you have your car valet-parked that night?”

He frowned. “I didn’t think of that. I guess I must have, though. I usually use valet parking when it’s an option.”

“Maybe he’ll remember seeing you,” Francesca said. “Wait here, okay? Let me talk to him first.”

Viggo clearly wasn’t wild about the idea of splitting up, but he stayed where he was. Francesca hoped he wouldn’t stare at her the whole time she tried to talk to the valet. That would definitely attract attention.

“Excuse me,” she said, approaching the stand.

The valet smiled at her. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“I hope so,” she said. “I’m Agent Francesca Bellucci, FBI.”

The smile dropped off his face. “Is there a problem, Agent?”

“No, but