LITMIR.BIZ

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was succeeding only in making her skin raw. She sank against the counter and stared at the open bathroom door. She figured Luke had already gotten into the tub, and if she didn’t free herself now, it would be too late. But then she caught his reflection in the mirror.

      He was turned toward the tub so she could only see his profile. The unguarded pose fascinated her and she stared with new interest at the thoughtful furrow of his brow as he appeared to be fiddling with something. The showerhead, probably. It hadn’t looked as though it had been used in a while.

      When he reached up to make an adjustment, Syd got quite a view of his lower chest and stomach, the arrow of hair pointing lower. The same fluttery feeling she’d had earlier returned to her belly. Luke wasn’t in any better shape than her personal trainer, but Larry sure never made her feel kind of squishy.

      Maybe because Larry was gay.

      At least he wasn’t a kidnapper.

      She shuddered at the reminder, but still kept her gaze trained on Luke as he stepped back and unconsciously rubbed his chest and then his beard-roughened jaw. He leaned toward the mirror to look at his face.

      His eyes slowly met hers.

      She heard his curse even though his reflection promptly disappeared. Obviously he knew she was watching him. A second later, he came through the door, a white towel wrapped around his hips, thunder in his face.

      Sydney tried not to cower. “I wasn’t watching you,” she said, as he roughly yanked the scarf loose. “I swear I wasn’t. I was only—”

      She frowned. If she could see him from this position in the kitchen, then he obviously had seen… “You bastard!”

      Amusement briefly replaced the scowl on his face, and then he dragged her to the bed and tied one of her wrists to the post. She didn’t bother struggling. He’d already tied the knot tighter than necessary, enough to make her skin sting.

      He still said nothing, but by the way he clenched his jaw, she knew he was pretty damn angry. Too bad. She wasn’t thrilled, either. Who knows how much he saw?

      Finally, he stood back. The towel had slipped a little and Sydney had trouble keeping her gaze raised…until he pointed a finger in her face. “Don’t move. Not one muscle, or I’ll have you trussed tighter than a whore’s corset.”

      She shrunk back and shook her head. “I won’t,” she whispered, and then waited silently for him to leave.

      Her heart still pounded and she tried to calm herself by recalling what he’d said. A whore’s corset? What an odd term. Made her wonder about his slight accent again. Maybe he was Cajun, but if so, what did he have to do with the unions in Dallas?

      It took her a good minute to realize he’d only tied one of her wrists. Probably because he’d been so angry. Or maybe he thought she was too frightened to try anything. He wouldn’t be too far off the mark on that account…if she weren’t so desperate.

      She rotated her wrist and winced with pain. It didn’t matter. She had to try. Slowly, she reached up with her other hand while keeping an eye on the bathroom door. The binding was so tight it was impossible for her to slip even one finger between the fabric.

      Finally, after two broken fingernails, she worked her little finger into the knot. Slowly, painfully, with no awareness of how much time passed, she began to loosen it. Twice she had to slow down her breathing and force herself to concentrate. Freedom seemed so close she could almost taste it.

      With one more thrust of her finger, the knot loosened and she quickly freed her hand while trying to sit up.

      “Shit!”

      Her gaze flew toward the bathroom.

      Luke stood naked, his tanned body damp and glistening. She sucked in a breath and tried to scramble off the bed. But he was too quick.

      He lunged across the mattress, caught her around the waist and flipped her onto her back. And then he swung one of his powerful, muscled legs over her hips and straddled her while he readied the scarf.

      His sex lay heavy in the valley between her ribs, half resting against her left breast.

      She swallowed, closed her eyes, and prayed.

      Chapter Four

      Luke cursed under his breath. “Stop it.”

      Sydney heard every pithy word and slowly opened her eyes, and tried to keep her gaze lifted to his face. “Wh-what?”

      “You’re shaking so damn hard I can’t tie this.” He yanked the scarf tight.

      She jerked from the pressure. “It isn’t my fault.”

      “The hell it isn’t.” He glared down at her and when she turned away, used her chin to force her gaze to his. “I told you to cooperate and you wouldn’t get hurt.”

      She blinked and tried not to think about his warm naked flesh pressed against her belly and her breast. “I’m sorry. I—I wasn’t trying to get away. I just wanted to get some water.”

      A humorless smile lifted one side of his mouth. “Right.”

      She took a shuddering breath, the pressure of his weight making it difficult to breathe deeply. “What are you going to do to me?”

      His brows furrowed slightly. Then he eased off, dazedly, almost as if he’d forgotten that he was naked and pinning her to the mattress with his body. “I don’t know.”

      She lowered her lashes. Not that he seemed bothered by his nudity. “I’m sorry,” she said, again. “I won’t try anything.”

      “Damn right.” He leaned over and cinched the scarf tighter.

      She gasped. Not in pain. Semiaroused, his sex brushed her arm, swung perilously close to her face.

      “Stay put, Sydney. Or you’ll get more than a warning next time.” He meaningfully held her gaze for a long, agonizing moment and then let his eyes briefly roam her breasts and hips before turning away and heading back toward the bathroom.

      He had a perfectly sculpted backside—like those guys in the beefcake calendars. He either had a lot of time to work out or was into athletics. Of course, not having an honest job allowed time to work out.

      She closed her eyes and tried deep, even breathing. Was she going insane? She didn’t care about this man’s body or how he spent his time. He’d taken her by force. He’d threatened her. She didn’t know that he wouldn’t harm her. She could cooperate, follow his instruction to the letter, and he could still kill her.

      She shivered and drew her knees up to her chest, curling up as best she could, even though her raised arm ached. She blinked, painfully recalling another time she’d claimed this position and refused to get out of bed for three days. She’d finally forced herself up to go to her parents’ funeral.

      Of course, she’d been hospitalized, banged and broken after the boating accident, but alive. She’d been nineteen, a sophomore at Yale, ready to take on the world, firmly planted in the invincibility of youth. With a jolt, her life had been turned upside down, and she’d ruthlessly learned that no amount of money or privilege could make her immune from pain and suffering.

      “What’s wrong now?”

      She opened her eyes. He stood right in front of her, thankfully in jeans, zipped but not snapped, his chest still bare.

      “Nothing,” she muttered, closing her eyes again, wishing he’d just go away. Leave her alone for the next week. Assuming he really would let her go then. She sniffed and curled into a tighter ball.

      “Sydney?”

      She tucked her chin lower.

      “Sydney.” His voice was closer, and she slowly, cautiously opened her eyes.

      He had crouched beside her, at eye level, and she reflexively drew back. His

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