Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart (42 page)

He feigned confusion at her, making
a big show of drawing his eyebrows together and shrugging those cliff-face
shoulders. Then he put a long, elegant finger to the divot under his nose in
the classic gesture for silence.

If he'd pushed her, she would have
resisted. But this? Now she was aroused and needy and there was a man not only
willing, but stunning, lying next to her. You didn't get many chances to sleep
with a demi-god devoted to your happiness and who had just proven he respected
what you wanted. Her body had been growling for his touch since they met and
now all she had to do was reach out for him.

With some part of her recognizing
this had been his plan from the start, she full-on straddled him and forced him
to look at her. As she knelt over him, her hands on the pillow, her hair
streamed down on either side of his handsome face.

This was a bad idea, but it seemed
like the best bad idea she'd ever had.

"Kiss me properly," she
ordered.

He obliged. In an instant, she was
in his arms, pressed fully against him. One of his hands was at the small of
her back, slipping under her pajama top, taking her shackled wrist with it. Her
fingers felt the crisp hairs between his pecs.

He devoured her as if trying to
suck the breath from her lungs. She did the same right back.

His magnificent lips went to her
neck, licking and sucking her pulse points as if he knew every one by heart.
The erotic sound of his mouth moving on her skin made her wet and ready.

"Max," he said, as if
worshiping the word the way he was worshipping her body. "
Hayati
."

"What does that mean?"
she whispered, despite gasping for breath. She recognized he ignored their
bargain, and found she didn't care. She just wanted to savor his sweet words.

He stopped his attentions to her
neck, which almost made her weep. He was on top of her now, his legs tangled in
hers, his erection stabbing at her belly. He reared back to look down at her
with heartbreaking honesty.

"It means 'my love.'" He
drew a knuckle down her cheek in a sweet caress that made her shiver. "And
it means 'my life.' They are the same to me. I'm dead without you, Max. I walk
and I breathe, but I no longer feel, no longer care. I need you."

Aroused and terrified, her emotions
rubbed raw by his, she barely had the power to speak. But his honesty deserved
her own. "This is overwhelming. How can I believe it?"

"If it is hard for you, then
put it from your mind and let me love you. Let me give you my body." He
put his forehead to hers as he had after their last kiss. The gesture seemed
even more intimate than his embrace. "Use me. You own me anyway. It makes
no difference."

No man had ever spoken to her like
this, his heart dripping out of his words. Perhaps that's why she'd never
fallen for any of the men she'd dated. But Sayd was so different.

"My body pleased you once."
His plain words went straight to her sex, making her clench. "Does it
please you now? Do you want me, Max?"

"I think your insanity is
catching," she said, grabbing a handful of hair to drag him down into a
kiss.

He'd been right. He could take off
her panties as well as anything else. In a fit of desire, he ripped open the
pajama top, sending silver-colored buttons flying. She used both hands and feet
to pull his silken bottoms off.

His skin felt amazing sliding
against hers. He was all hard muscle, everywhere. God, she'd never felt
anything like this, this
hunger
for him. Hunger. It was the only word
for it. Like she'd been starving for ages and he was a buffet someone had put
out for her.

Sayd might be crazy, but he knew
how to turn her on. He licked her nipples, wetting them with his hot tongue
just the way she'd always loved. When she thought the heavy ache deep inside
her breasts would drive her over the edge, he massaged it away with masterful
fingers.

She reached for his cock, desperate
to feel the hard length of him, but he caught her left wrist in his right and
drew it over her head. Her own right hand was still captured in the cuffs, and
went along with it.

Sayd reared back and took a long
look at her naked body.

So vulnerable. To a man she hadn't
known yesterday. Her first one-night stand. She'd never done anything like
this, and she definitely shouldn’t be doing it now. Embarrassment heated her
skin. She pulled at her hand, trying to get back some control.

His grip was like a shackle. "Trying
to escape me? It is too late for that now."

He, on the other hand, wasn't
embarrassed at all. He raked her body with his eyes, lifted a breast in his
free hand, toying with her. Her heart kicked into overdrive, thrumming like the
engine of his motorcycle at being so exposed.

He could do anything he wanted now.
And he was right, it was too late for her to protest. Except... she knew he
would never hurt her. Something deep inside her told her that she could trust
him. Maybe not to understand the line between fantasy and reality, but in this,
at least. "You would stop if I told you to."

He paused, confirming everything
she thought. He would stop if she asked. She knew it.

Then he lowered himself, resting
his weight on her. His cock jabbed at her hip. He whispered in her ear, barely
louder than a breath. "Tell me to stop. We will see what happens."

Her stomach clenched in anticipation.
Either he'd seduce her no into a yes, or he'd actually stop. With her dry
mouth, she couldn’t form words, so she shook her head.

That pleased him. Eyes bright with
the thrill of domination, he drew his hand down her cheek and neck in a long
caress. "Do you know what I’m going to do now?"

"No," she croaked, but
the way his hand kept going down, caressing one nipple, blazing a fiery trail
over her hip, she was starting to have an idea.

He didn't tease her, but buried his
hand in her sex. He caressed inside with two fingers, stroking and filling her.
And damn, just as she caught his rhythm and started moving against him,
squeezing his hand with inner muscles, he flicked his thumb over her
too-sensitive clit.

Her whole body shuddered. He
growled in appreciation, as if he'd expected that reaction. Odd, since a full
body quiver was new to her.

Soon, all thought was lost to her
as sensation took over. Mindlessly, she locked her mouth on the nearest part of
him, biting his shoulder blade while he stroked her into a frenzy.

And then just stopped.

"More," she demanded,
nearly incoherent. She was on the edge. Why wouldn't he move his hand? "Now."

"Ask me," he said. "Ask
me to—"

He used an Arabic word. She didn't
have to know the language to know what he meant. "Yes, yes." She
couldn’t get the words out fast enough. "Please fuck me. Do it now."

She just wanted to come, to release
pressure he'd built inside her, and to share it with him. To feel his body
against hers, for him to lose control inside her. Working together with their
free and cuffed hands, they ripped open a condom package. She rolled it over
his impressive length, wishing for time to linger on his cock, but not now.
Later
.

They fit together like they were
designed for each other. She came the instant he was fully in her, her muscles
clenching against the foreign hardness inside.

When the pleasure faded, he rocked
inside her, urgent thrusts and soul-melting kisses. Somehow, through his lust
for her body, he made her feel the kind of love she thought only existed in
fairy tales. The sensation built in her again. As if he knew her body better
than she did herself, he changed the angle of this thrusts and set off a second
shower of sparks behind her eyelids.

When he announced his climax with
one deep thrust and a heart-deep cry of her name, she felt she would never be
the same.

Chapter
Three

In his arms, Max dreamed of the
gold sphere again. She knew it was precious, but no matter how hard she tried
to keep it, she couldn't hold on. Over and over, the sphere slipped through her
fingers like it was made of drifting sand.

When she woke, she found she had to
wipe away tears.

Oh dear lord, what had she done?
Beside her, in the bed, Sayd snored softly. Her logic came back to her, making
her feel like smashing her brains out against the carved headboard. She'd made
love to the crazy person. His insanity really was contagious.

Well, now she finally had the
advantage over her sleeping captor. She stayed still, careful not to wake him.
She scanned the room quickly for anything she could use.

His jacket hung over a desk chair,
just out of reach. Except if she stretched out... Working quickly, she made
herself as long as possible and managed to hook one leg of the chair with the
tip of her toe.

Sayd stirred. She froze. He would
wake. She knew it. He'd find her trying to escape and take it personally.
Probably cuff her to the chair again instead of to his incredible body.

Didn't happen. He murmured
something that might have been her name and fell back into slumber.

Heart pounding, she dragged the
chair over. Inside pocket. That's where he'd kept the key to the cabin. And
with any luck...

Yes. The handcuff key was there.
Incredible. He seemed like such a smart guy—but even the most intelligent
person could overlook the obvious. Or maybe he was counting on their supposed
relationship to keep her at his side.

Whatever. She unlocked the cuffs,
slipped out of the bed and got her clothes on. If she could have cuffed him to
something without risking waking him, she would have. But there was nothing.
She was just going to have to learn how to drive a motorcycle on the quick, and
hope to outrun him. Once she got back to civilization, she'd see that he got
some help.

When she put on his jacket, the
opposite inside pocket seemed heavy. A wallet, maybe? It didn't feel that
bulky, though. More round and solid.

She shouldn't take the time. She
should go. She should be on that bike right now.

She trembled as she dipped a hand
into the pocket, as if she already knew what she'd find.

A heavy gold chain, designed for a
man, trailed from her fingers as she drew them out. With a jangle, she pulled
the medallion free from the pocket. The golden sphere swung in the darkness of
the room.

All thought of escape fled her
mind. It didn't matter. She was asleep, returned to her dream. The ghostly
feeling of the endless dunes flowed over her and she stepped toward the window.
She pulled back the curtains to let the moon shine on the sphere.

This time, when she took it in her
hand, the medallion didn't melt away. She held its solid weight, burning to
know its mystery. The moonlight showed her a seam down its center. Twisting the
two halves separated them to reveal the treasure within.

A round of silver paper the shape
of a nickel, but thicker and lighter. Unable to think, she pushed the folds of
paper open to see what it contained, though in her heart, she already knew.

A translucent beige circle with a
hole in the middle. A Butter Rum Life Saver.

She went numb. With her legs
threatening to give way, she reached out to brace herself on the wall. She
wasn't even surprised when Sayd put his arms around her to hold her up.

"Sally," she said to the
Life Saver. "They called him Sally. They said it was because he was like a
little girl. That's like Sayd."

"
Hayati
," he whispered,
and kissed her ear.

"What does this mean?"
Her voice came out hoarse. She couldn't drag her eyes from the candy. "What
does it mean?"

"You know what it means, Max.
Somewhere in your mind, in your memory that they have locked away, you know."
His voice was tender. His meaning was terrifying.

"The Crimson Hand had deposed
my father for his liberal reforms. They wanted a return to the old ways. He
sent my mother and I to Newark, to stay with business partners in the U.S. who
supported his efforts to modernize. I was six years old." Raw emotion
tinged his words, threatened to crack his control. "I tried to forget
those dark times in my life, but your kindness to me glowed like a star in a
moonless night. I could never forget you. Not for eighteen years."

Could it be true? That she was
Sayd's wife? That everything he said was real and everything she remembered
wrong?

She stared down at her palm, at the
candy cradled there, until a glowing red dot appeared. That didn't seem...
right. She blinked at the scarlet circle, trying to make it make sense.

"Max, down," Sayd
screamed, and dove the floor with her just as the bedroom window exploded into
a thousand pieces with a deafening shatter.

"Dammit," he swore, when
the shards had stopped falling. "That was meant to be bulletproof."

"The Crimson Hand," she
said, weakly. It seemed too late to start believing, and to worry about things
like keeping curtains closed. Then she saw the red stain spreading on his
shirt. "Sayd, you're hurt."

"I don't—" He looked down
at himself, at the wound under his rib. "Oh, this is nothing."

It wasn't nothing. There was a hole
in him. In this man who might be more than just a man to her, as incredible as
it seemed. But there was no time to think about that. Things started exploding
around the room. Half a dozen more red dots appeared—the laser sights of
rifles. The lamp by the bed burst and tumbled to the floor. The pillow where
her head had just been sent a frenzy of feathers into the air. Three holes
appeared in the headboard.

In the silence between the shots,
she heard a hissing. It came from Sayd's wound. His face had gone ashen. She
pulled him off the floor, keeping his head below the window frame. She managed
to prop him against the wall.

"Your lung is deflating,"
she said, that First Aid course from college kicking in. She grabbed his tee
shirt from the floor and pressed it to his wound

"I have another." The
blood on his lips wrecked his joke. His eyes began to close.

"No. Sayd." She put her
hand to one of his cheeks. "Tell me where your phone is."

He grunted, beginning to slump to
one side.

She pressed his hand to the wadded
tee shirt, now seeping crimson. Desperately, she cupped his jaw between her
hands and forced him to look at her. She touched his forehead with her own in
the gesture that had seemed far too intimate earlier that night. Had they done
this a thousand times before? Would they ever get to again?

"Sayd." She softened her
voice, forced a calm she didn't feel with the bullets flying. "It's your
hayati
.
I need to use your phone. Where is it?"

He raised a weak finger to the bed
stand, on his side where he had slept. Right in the line of fire.

Using the leather jacket to cover
the glass, she inched across the floor on her hands and knees, aware that every
second lost could cost Sayd his life. But he would also die if she didn't make
that call—and he'd better have a security number programmed in.

After what seemed like a painful
eternity, she lifted the phone from the drawer and moved her thumb over the
unlock slider, only to face a password screen.

"Max," Sayd called, his
voice weak. "Get under the bed."

Good plan. She crawled under. "What's
your password?"

He didn't answer.

Fingers trembling, she typed in
desperation.

Maxine
. No.

Hayati
. No.

One more chance before it locked
her out.

Rosalie
, she typed. The middle name she hated, never told anyone. That he
had once used.

Welcome, said the screen.

She selected the number labeled "Security."
The man on the other end answered in Arabic. She screamed curses at him for his
clear incompetence, and said the word "cabin" over and over.

She swore into the phone as she
crawled to Sayd's side. He was unconscious now. Laying him on the floor, she
breathed into his opened mouth and prayed.

Five
minutes later, she heard a helicopter land nearby.

* * *

Sayd was on a stretcher. Three
Crimson Hand assassins were in body bags. Burly men in camouflage scrambled
around the yard. She sensed, but never saw, many more of them in the woods.

Sayd was stable, with an oxygen
tube under his nose. They were loading him into the helicopter. They were
trying to load her into a car.

Guess what wasn't going to happen?
But she had to be sneaky. "Let me say goodbye to him," she pleaded.

The biggest bodyguard in her
way—probably the one she'd cussed out on Sayd's phone—nodded. "As you
wish, Princess, but after what you have endured, you must not go with him."

She nodded and tried to look
suitably sad as she sprinted to the helicopter.

Sayd, the man who just might be her
husband, looked up at her with shining grey eyes. He opened his mouth, but his
voice didn't even squeak out.

"I know," she said to
him, over the noise of the chopper blades. "I'm a terrible liar."

He smiled with bloodless lips and
shifted his hand an inch closer to her. She grabbed the open handcuff that
would shackle her to him and slammed it around her wrist.

"Tough titties." She
glared at the bodyguard. "I'm going with him."