He could tell from her posture that she believed every word she said. She really believed he'd just been looking for a warm place to stick his d.i.c.k, and she'd happened to be close. If he was smart, he'd let her believe it. The way she managed to tie him in knots and throw him completely off his game should have been warning enough.

"You want to hear about my reality?" He grabbed her and pulled her to him, wrapping one hand around her upper arm and the other around the back of her neck. "Yeah, I've f.u.c.ked a lot of women. And you're right. After I leave, I don't spend much time worrying about their feelings or thinking about when I'm going to see them again."

"Such a gentleman," she spat out.

"But I'm honest. I don't feed women lines of bulls.h.i.t. I don't have to." He pulled her closer, let her feel his thickening c.o.c.k surge against her firm belly. "I don't like it any more than you do, but you are different. And I know because I've been thinking about you nonstop for three days straight, wondering where you are, what you're doing, when I'll see you again. I gave my brother a black eye yesterday for even joking about asking you out. And now that I've f.u.c.ked you, I can't get the feel of you out of my head, and I think I'm going to go crazy if I don't have you again."

She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she said was m.u.f.fled by the hard pressure of his mouth. He took full advantage of her surprise, thrusting his tongue between her parted lips, his fist tightening in her hair when she would have pulled away.

She splayed her palms and pushed against his chest, but he wouldn't give an inch. He knew he was being obnoxious but he couldn't stop himself. With her, he wasn't capable of any disconnected, calculated seduction. He was wild, out of control, driven by the need to prove she was different. By the need to have her.

He caught one of her hands in his and dragged it to the fly of his pants. His c.o.c.k surged, hard as a spike against the unwilling pressure of her hand. She let out a m.u.f.fled sound of protest even as her fingers wrapped reflexively around the thick shaft.

He rocked his hips against her hand, already so turned on he was seconds from coming in his pants like a h.o.r.n.y teenager. "Feel that?" He nipped at her bottom lip and released her hand, groaning when she kept it firmly pressed against the front of his pants. "I'm like that every time I get within ten feet of you." He thrust again for emphasis. She responded by giving his d.i.c.k a firm squeeze. He cupped her face in his hands and began to kiss her in earnest, his tongue tracing her lips and probing her mouth. He kissed her the way he wanted to f.u.c.k her, sweeping in and out in a slow, hungry rhythm.

Her hands slid down his back and up again, catching the hem of his shirt on the way. He hissed at the feel of her cool fingers on his overheated skin. He yanked the hem of her T-shirt up her chest and dragged it over her head, his d.i.c.k swelling against his fly when he saw what she was wearing underneath.

Her bra was made of sheer mesh decorated with patches of lace and did nothing to hide the pale skin and dark pink tips. He covered her with both hands, brushing his thumbs over the rock-hard peaks. "Please tell me you're wearing panties that match." He groaned aloud at the thought of tasting her plump p.u.s.s.y lips through the thin veil of see-through mesh.

Gripping her around the waist, he lifted her off the floor and moved the short distance to the kitchen table. He sat her down and stood between her legs, kissing her all the while. He wanted to suck her t.i.ts into his mouth, bury his tongue in her c.u.n.t, but he couldn't get enough of her sweet, succulent mouth. He loved the way she tasted, the way her tongue chased his back into his mouth, the way her lips sucked at his, the breathy little moans she made in the back of her throat.

She shifted to fit herself more firmly against the hard ridge of his erection. He could feel her heat through the fabric of his pants and hers. He unb.u.t.toned her jeans, and the buzz of her zipper was the most erotic sound he'd ever heard. He slid his hand over her panties. They were drenched, soaked with the evidence that as much as she tried to hold herself back, she was as hot for him as he was for her. "I've been dreaming of f.u.c.king you again," he murmured, pressing his fingers against her hot slit. She breathed a shaky sigh into his mouth as his finger barely brushed her c.l.i.t through the insubstantial fabric of her panties.

"I was thinking I would take it nice and slow." Another brush of her c.l.i.t and she jerked as though hit with an electric shock. "I want to spend hours sucking on your t.i.ts, licking your p.u.s.s.y. Making you nice and soft and ready for me to f.u.c.k."

A soft "Oh G.o.d" whispered across his cheek.

"You liked when I went down on you, didn't you?" His long, firm stroke teased out another surge of moisture. "You got so wet, just like you are now. I want to taste you again when you come." He held his hand still, pressed against her pulsing s.e.x, keeping her hovering on the edge. Her hips rocked against him imploringly, and his c.o.c.k answered with a throb so intense it was nearly painful.

He began working his fingers in a slow, circular motion. "I want to go down on you for hours, make you come so much you beg me to stop." She was moaning now, matching the rhythm of his fingers with her hips, hovering on the edge. He slid his hands from her pants, ignoring her shocked noise of protest.

Stepping back, he yanked her pants down her legs and bent his head to her stomach. He knew he wouldn't last long, knew he wouldn't have the willpower to tease her the way he wanted, but he couldn't resist going in for one sweet taste. His lips slid across the sweat-slicked skin of her belly, skittered across her hip bone. He lowered to his knees, hooked her leg over his shoulder, and pressed his mouth against the soaked fabric of her panties.

He hooked his fingers in her waistband and was just about to tug them down her miles of legs when his cell phone played Nine Inch Nails. Derek's ringtone.

"Let it go to voice mail," she pleaded.

He was right there with her. Ignoring the insistent ring, he tugged the panties off her hips, following their progress with soft sucks and nips. The phone went silent. Ethan had licked and sucked his way halfway down Toni's leg when Derek called right back.

He tried to shut it out, but a still-functioning corner of his brain reminded him that his brother wouldn't keep calling if it weren't an emergency.

"f.u.c.k!" He roared, tearing himself away from the perfect creaminess of Toni's thigh. s.n.a.t.c.hing his phone off the table, he answered it with a curt, if slightly breathless, "This had better be good."

He barely heard his brother's voice as he watched Toni scramble for her clothes. "Don't move," he whispered, holding up a hand as if to stay her. But it was too late. She'd already tugged her pants up her legs and was scooting into a seated position as she yanked her T-shirt back over her head.

l.u.s.t was still roaring in his head so loud Derek's words didn't quite register. "What did you say?"

"I just talked to Dad. There's been an accident."

How did this keep happening? Toni thought as she tucked her T-shirt firmly into her waistband. What was it about Ethan? All he had to do was kiss her and suddenly her clothes were flying off and she was ready to do him on her secondhand kitchen table. She snuck a glance at him as he began pacing in agitation around the room. Whatever the news was, it wasn't good. She took advantage of his distraction to pull herself together, smoothing her shirt and pulling her hair back into a twist. She finger-combed the loose waves, trying not to think of Ethan's husky voice in her ear telling her that her hair was s.e.xy.

Halfway composed, she turned her attention to Ethan, trying to pick out the details of his side of the conversation. His tone was quiet, calm to the point of coldness, even though she could make out words and phrases like "airlift" and "Will he need surgery?"

Her concern deepened when Ethan finally paused in his pacing by the sliding gla.s.s patio door. His broad shoulders hung in a defeated slump.

She moved off the couch and over to her desk so she could see and hear him better. His side of the conversation was now limited to murmured "uh-huhs" and monosyllabic responses. The harsh set of his mouth deepened the grooves on his cheeks until he looked older than his thirty-two years.

Finally, he hung up, exhaling on a weary sigh. He stared out at the parking lot with unseeing eyes for several long moments.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him in comfort but couldn't bring herself to approach him. Funny how she'd been ready to screw him on the kitchen table, yet offering a hug felt far too intimate. "Is everything okay?" she asked tentatively.

He started as though he'd forgotten about her presence. For a split second his face was open and unguarded, and she could see what looked like decades of weariness clouding his eyes. But the vulnerability was gone in an instant.

"My father and my older brother got in a car accident while traveling in Indonesia."

"Oh, my G.o.d. Are they okay?"

"Danny broke his nose on the steering wheel and dislocated his shoulder. My dad has a few scratches. But they're fine."

"Still, that's so scary, especially when it happened so far away."

He shook his head, brushing off her concern. "Nothing but the usual Taggart family drama. I've gotten used to it by now."

She got up from behind the desk and went to stand beside him. Not brave enough to touch him but wanting to comfort him nonetheless. "Yeah? Like what?"

He studied her for a minute and looked like he was about to say something. Then his stare went blank. "Typical family bulls.h.i.t. Nothing worth sharing."

Not with you, anyway. He didn't say it, but Toni got the point loud and clear.

Ouch. Not only had she let him see her naked, she'd told him all about what happened to Mich.e.l.le, a subject she never brought up with anyone. Sure, she'd kept it matter-of-fact and to the point. She didn't tell him that Mich.e.l.le's death had sent her mother into a depression from which she'd never recovered. To this day, Toni was convinced it was that, and not the cancer, that had killed her. Guilt had ravaged Susan Crawford's body to the point that she didn't even want to fight. She didn't tell Ethan what it had felt like, living with a mother who missed Mich.e.l.le so much that Toni felt guilty for being alive every time her mother looked at her.

Now, as she looked at Ethan, his face closed up like a black box, she was glad she hadn't shared any of that with him. Glad she hadn't reached out in some ham-handed attempt to offer comfort he didn't want. All that talk about her being "different," but his boundaries were as clearly staked as if he'd put up caution tape.

Intimacy issues. Funny how she should be so hurt by Ethan's reluctance to share, when John had so often accused her of the exact same thing. Served her right. She knew exactly what to expect from a man like Ethan, and it wasn't deep conversations all about sharing emotions and childhood traumas.

"I'm glad everyone is okay, then," she said, retreating behind the security of her computer screen.

"Thanks. If you don't mind, I need to meet with Derek and make some arrangements. I'll call you later."

As she watched the door slam shut behind him, Toni could hardly believe this was the same man who, less than five minutes ago, had been describing in vivid detail how much he enjoyed performing oral s.e.x on her.

She slumped back in her chair, wishing she had it in her to let this go, wishing she didn't have the gut-deep instinct that something was very wrong, wishing she didn't need proof that Kara was safe and sound and on her way home.

As soon as she heard from Kara, she was getting out of town and on with her life. At this point, she didn't care if she had enough money for a security deposit or another job lined up when she got to Seattle. Right now, she needed to get out of here before she did something really stupid. Like fall in love with Ethan Taggart.

CHAPTER 12.

K ARA LAY ON a twin bed, one wrist handcuffed to the metal bed frame. They'd moved her here right after they'd taken those creepy pictures, and she still wore the same white nightshirt thing and cotton panties they'd posed her in.

So some disgusting man could see what he was getting before he paid someone for her virginity.

Nausea roiled her stomach. She tried not to think about it, reminding herself over and over that this was all about her dad, that the blond guy only threatened to hurt her because he wanted some chip or something from him.

But it had been at least a couple of days, and she was still here. Not in the bas.e.m.e.nt anymore, at least, but in a small wooden building on the property. Kind of like a shack that had been converted to a really c.r.a.ppy guest house. It had electricity and a bathroom, and a set of twin beds. Mostly, Kara had been left alone, except for a few times a day when someone-usually a mean-looking guy with dark hair and bad skin-came to give her food and water and uncuff her long enough to let her go to the bathroom.

What was taking so long? This would be her third night here. At least, Kara thought it was the third, but it was hard to tell how much time had pa.s.sed since she had no clock or watch, and both windows in the place-one across the room from her, the other in the bathroom-were shaded so completely they blocked out all the light. Not to mention that it prevented anyone from seeing in. But from what Kara could tell while they were moving her to the other building, there weren't any people out here to see. They'd loaded her into a dark SUV and driven her a short distance down a dirt road bordered by dense redwood forest. There wasn't a single other vehicle or person other than the guy driving the car, the same big blond guy who'd taken her pictures while the other guy watched.

She'd been so scared, wondering where they were taking her. She'd cried and begged him to let her go, promised that her dad would pay him whatever he wanted if he just let her go now.

He hadn't even glanced in the rearview mirror, stonily focused on navigating the narrow, b.u.mpy road.

None of her captors tried to hide their faces from her. No one seemed to care that she saw her surroundings.

On TV and in movies, that meant they weren't worried about being identified by their victims. Which usually meant the victims ended up dead.

At the realization, Kara had been hit by wave after wave of panic, followed by periods of fitful sleep as her body recovered from the stress.

Right now, she almost felt numb, lying here in the light of the single lamp. The sandwich that Crater Face had brought her sweated on a plate next to her. She hadn't touched it, or any of the other food they'd brought her. Fear cramped her stomach and killed her appet.i.te, and now the smell of lunch meat made her want to hurl.

Suddenly the door burst open. It was Crater Face, but this time the beefy guy was with him.

Along with two other girls.

Kara barely registered the girls' faces as they were dragged roughly through the shack and shoved into the bathroom. She could hear the girls crying and protesting over orders to strip. The water ran in the shower, m.u.f.fling their cries. A few minutes later the girls were dragged, naked and shivering, into the main room.

They were both young-younger than Kara. Maybe fifteen or sixteen? One was tall and thin, her dark, wet hair sticking to her shoulders as she tried to cover herself with one arm over her chest and a hand between her legs. The other was blond, shorter and kind of chunky. She was completely freaking out, screaming and crying, "Please let me go, let me go," like a siren, over and over, until Kara was afraid she was going to scream, too.

Crater Face grabbed a canvas bag and fished a bundle out of it, shoving a white garment at each girl. "Shut up and put this on."

The dark-haired one s.n.a.t.c.hed it to her. Her eyes darted over to Kara, then slid away, as if maybe if she didn't look, the girl tied to the bed would disappear. There was something oddly familiar about the girl's face. The girl yanked the nightshirt on-it was white and ruffly, identical to the one Kara wore-and dragged the underwear up her legs.

The blonde was still screaming, backing away with her hands up as Crater Face tried to make her take the shirt.

Suddenly, the blonde made a break for it, busting past both men and running headlong for the door. She hit the door and flung it open, but Crater Face caught her by the hair and dragged her back inside. He grabbed her by the throat and shoved her up against the wall.

The girl's fleshy shoulders heaved and her eyes bugged out as her scream finally stopped, cut off by the thug's meaty grip.

"Shut. The f.u.c.k. Up. You hear me." Tears spurted from the girl's eyes and she started to whimper.

Crater Face backhanded her across the face.

"Stop, you are not to mark them," the big guy said in German accented English. "Now we have to do touch-ups!"

Crater Face released the girl, who sank to the ground in a quivering, whimpering mess. The dark-haired girl stood frozen in the center of the room, chest heaving and eyes darting wildly from Kara to the thugs to the chubby blond and back again.

"Get her up," the blond said to Crater Face. "You." He motioned to the dark haired girl. "Come with me." She slid Kara a wide-eyed look and took a reluctant step toward the door, while Crater Face heaved the blond girl to her feet and dragged the white shirt over her head.

"Just do what they say," Kara blurted. "Do what they say and you won't get hurt."

She had no idea if that was true, but so far it had worked for her, and she prayed it would be the same for the other girls.

They were back shortly. The men handcuffed the blond next to Kara on her bed and the dark-haired girl to the other one and left without a word.

Kara mashed herself against the wall to make room for the other girl, who lay on her side, so scared the bed shook with her tremors. The dark-haired girl was statue-still, curled in a ball as she stared at Kara with wide, fear-soaked eyes.

"What are they going to do to us?" the girl said in a high, thin voice.

Kara shook her head and awkwardly patted the blond girl next to her. "I don't know. Maybe nothing."

"Why did they take those pictures of us?"

Kara shook her head, not wanting to freak them out. "They brought me here because they want something from my dad. I think they took those pictures to show our families."

The girl's face pulled in confusion. "Do you think they want money? We don't have any money." Her voice started to shake. "My dad's a postal worker, he can't pay ransom."

The blond girl started to sob again. "My mom teaches third grade, she hardly makes anything, either."

Kara's mind raced. What could she tell them? That her father was rich and could pay whatever their captors wanted, so too bad for them?

Besides, she couldn't shake the feeling that something really bad was going to happen to her, whether her father gave in to her kidnappers' demands or not.

"It's going to be okay," she said, patting the blond girl's shoulder to try to calm her down.

They were silent for a while, the only sound in the dim room the blond girl's m.u.f.fled sobs. The dark-haired girl stayed frozen in a ball of skinny limbs.

"What's your name?" the blond girl finally asked with a sniff.

"Kara. What's yours?"

"I'm Emily. That's Jessica."

"Are you from around here?" Maybe they knew where they were, knew if they were close to a road or as far out in the middle of b.u.mf.u.c.k nowhere as Kara feared.

Emily's hair brushed Kara's shoulder as she shook her head. "I don't even know where here is," she said. "They knocked me out, and we drove for a long time after I woke up."

"Where are you from, then?"

"Fresno," Emily answered.

"How about you?" Kara asked Jessica. She wasn't even sure if the girl heard her, she was so zoned out.