If I didn’t think there was something wrong with me before, I definitely do now. I’m as crazy as they come.
Because seriously, the first time a man ever touches me, I turn into a simpering idiot.
I shouldn’t be enjoying this.
The robber-slash-rapist stiffens. “Did you just say something about enjoying this?”
Shit. Did I say that out loud? And does he have to sound so smug about it?
Great. Now he’s going to think I’m inviting his sexual advances. Isn’t that how these stories go? People love to say she asked for it.
My eyes go to the basement window. That stupid little window. It was supposed to be my way to freedom. Instead, it delivered me into the hands of a probable serial killer.
Slowly, he slides his hand away from my mouth, and I breathe deeply because I suddenly feel like I’m oxygen deprived.
“If you’re looking for money,” I pant quietly, “I have some. You can take it.”
“I don’t want your money.”
So I was right about his intentions. If he doesn’t want cash, then he must want me.
Well, I promised I’d be quiet if he let me go. I didn’t promise I wouldn’t run.
As soon as his hold on me slackens enough that I have room to move my arms, I do my best to elbow him in the ribs. He grunts, and I use his momentary surprise take off for the trees. With only a half-moon above us, it’ll be dark in there. If I can make it to a bush or something, I can hide.
It’s a longshot, but it’s a chance.
As I dash across the lawn, I can hear my attacker gaining on me. Aside from my treadmill jogs, my small stature is accustomed to a sedentary lifestyle, and I’m no match for someone with long legs who works out regularly.
But right now, I don’t care about that.
In fact, I don’t care about much of anything at the moment.
My medicine is in full-swing, hushing the fear I know I should be feeling.
Cool air kisses my cheeks, and wind blows through my hair. The burn in my lungs and legs is just a quiet echo of pain that feels more like a nice heat. I’m outside, where I can see the sky and the stars.
Free.
It’s exhilarating.
For a second, I numbly consider the possibility of death, and a strange acceptance falls over me. I’m being chased by someone who might want to kill me, but this is the most fun I’ve had in years.
Not bad for a last life experience.
At least I won’t die in my cage.
Little thing is stronger than she looks. She might’ve bruised one of my ribs. Pain radiates through my right side as I try to catch up to her.
Her legs are pumping surprisingly fast, but I’m right on her tail. I could reach for her and end this game now, but I won’t. Can’t crush her hopes and dreams just yet. I want to let her think she’s got a chance of outrunning me.
A melodic giggle floats up on a breeze, and my feet falter.
Is she… laughing?
There it is again.
She is. She’s fucking laughing. Who does that when they’re terrified?
I didn’t mean to scare her, but shit, there’s no good way to approach someone like that in the middle of the night. Worst case scenario, she might’ve screamed loud enough to wake Loralee, and I couldn’t let that happen.
She’s almost to the tree line, so I decide to go for it. Three long strides bring me close enough to grab her. I circle her with my arms, and she lets out an outraged shriek.
As I tackle her, I spin us so my back hits the ground, and I absorb most of the impact.
“Let me go, you robber-slash-rapist,” Rosalie growls, kicking with all her might.
“What did I tell you about being quiet?” I hook my legs over hers to stop her thrashing, but Rosalie takes me by surprise again.
In a swift move I don’t see coming, she whacks me in the crotch.
My stomach tenses, I wheeze, and I bite the inside of my lip to stop myself from groaning in pain.
Taking advantage of the damage she’s done, Rosalie slips from my hold like she’s coated with butter and rolls to the side.
Cupping my poor balls, I sit up, ready to tell her who I am, but suddenly, she’s behind me. Her arm goes around my neck and she squeezes.
Ah. A chokehold. A poorly executed one, but I’m impressed.
And surprisingly turned on.
You wouldn’t think I could still get it up after getting punched in the nuts, but all this wrestling and body contact is giving my dick the wrong message.
I’ve denied myself human touch for a long time. Tonight’s the most physical contact I’ve had with someone in ten years.
I could quickly become addicted to it, even if she is trying to knock me out.
Getting to my feet, I stand, taking Rosalie up with me. She’s light. Too light. I hadn’t realized how little she weighs until just now. I’m almost afraid to be too rough with her.
Gently, I try to pry her arms away while swinging her this way and that, but she won’t let go of my neck. With her feet dangling a half a foot off the ground, she holds on tight, refusing to succumb to my efforts to shake her off.
We don’t have time for this nonsense.
All right. Time to try a different tactic.
Staggering, I make it seem like I’m getting dizzy before dropping to my knees. I fling my arms out, feigning a pathetic attempt at grabbing her off my back. After a few seconds, I slump to the ground, face first.
A few seconds pass before Rosalie slowly removes her arm.
“Shit,” she gasps, getting to her feet. “I did it. I actually did it. Oh, God, he looks dead. Is he dead? What if I killed him?”
She nudges me with her foot, and I hold my breath while staying limp. Whimpering, she starts pacing and continues talking to herself.
“I’m the murderer. I am. No. No, no, no.” Her shoes crunch over the autumn leaves. “It was self-defense. No one could blame me for it. But I can’t just leave him here. If I run now, I’ll definitely look guilty.” The pacing stops. “Damn it.”
The fretting is entertaining as fuck, and it takes everything I have not to laugh.
Grasping my jacket, Rosalie begins pulling my arm to turn me over. It’s not easy for her—I’m a big dude. I’ve always been tall, but in recent months, with nothing to do other than manual labor and exercise, I’ve packed on some muscle.
With a final grunt, Rosalie gets me onto my back.
She lets out a choked sound when she sees my face in the moonlight. “Preston?”
I should probably end the ruse now, but this is too much fun. I give no response, allowing her to believe she’s ended my life as I stay completely still. My lungs are burning from lack of oxygen, and my lips twitch from holding back a grin, but I want to see what Rosalie’s going to do.
“Okay, okay,” she says breathlessly. “I can fix this.” Her fingers flit over my chest before she puts a hand under my neck. She tilts my head back and pinches my nose. “Just like the movies. Here goes nothing.”
CPR? Is she seriously going to try to revive me? After I scared the shit out of her and chased her down like a madman?
Yeah. She is.
Peeking through one eye, I see her shadowed face coming closer. Right before her lips descend on mine, I spring up and grab her shoulders. She lets out a frightened squeal, and I flip us so I’m on top.