by Daisy Harris
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Josie’s muscles screamed with pent-up rage. She struggled to focus her gaze on her new husband’s face, hoping her expression conveyed the depth of her hurt.
“When I open this door, I want you to run as fast as you can. Will you do that?”
She dragged her jaw low, forcing her tongue to work. “Noooooo.” Her voice sounded foreign, sickly, frightening to her own ears.
Bane scrubbed a hand over his face. “Listen, it’s for your own good. I...” He couldn’t seem to look at her, his gaze swinging to the corners and shelves.
Her breath dragged into her chest, slow and ragged. “Nooooooo.” Josie couldn’t... Couldn’t let this man, who’d she’d hoped for so hard, treat her like a thing. Adam had done that, and it nearly broke her.
His lips pinched. With guilt? She couldn’t tell. Then Bane crossed his arms and stepped back as far as the tiny room would allow. “All right, fine,” he whispered. “If I let you go free will you run as fast as you can?”
Her mind shrieked to refuse, but she chose what would give her the best chance at freedom. Josie pinched her eyes and gulped hard on her pride, then nodded.
“I release you.”
She let out her breath and lifted her chin, but refused to show the depth of her relief.
Bane reached for the handle, not giving her a chance to even think. “Head for the stairs and out the front door. Don’t turn around, don’t look at me. I’ll be right behind you. One...” he breathed. “Two...three!”
The door flew open and Josie ran. She’d planned to head to her room and lock the door once they reached the top, but from behind her, gunfire erupted. Her vision tunneled, her legs pedaled up the staircase. Josie stumbled at the top step and her knee smacked down on the marble floor, but Bane’s arm hooked under her shoulder and hauled her to her feet.
He shoved her across Adam’s living room, and then gripped her upper arm to haul her outside. All the while, Bane continued firing behind them, not looking where he shot, but hitting his mark every time.
Cool, fragrant air filled her senses. The heels of her shoes sank into the damp ground with her every step. She ran as fast as she could, her legs burning as she fought to keep Bane’s pace. The forest swirled with life—animals scurried in the underbrush, birds rustled the leaves, waist-high greenery licked at her dress with waterlogged branches.
The enormous white confection became heavier as she ran, her shoes burned at her heels and toes. She panted, “I can’t... I have to stop...” Bane bent over and grabbed her waist and hauled her up, then set her down immediately. “You wearing anything under that?”
Josie opened her mouth to answer, but he waved his hand. “Whatever.” Gripping her shoulders, he turned her around and unzipped the back. Bane shoved the dress to the forest floor and ordered, “Ditch the shoes too. They’ll only slow you down.”
Too frightened to argue, Josie bent over to tilt her shoes off then stepped out of the pile of dress. When she rounded on Bane, his desperate expression forced her to step back and consider running the other way.
“Damn, babe.” He ripped his shirt over his head. The muscles of his arms and abdomen rippled as he bunched the cloth in his fists. More gently than she would have thought, he put it over her head. Josie fed her arms through the holes and the scent of man and sweat clung to the garment, as did the heat of his body. Josie wanted to roll around in the cloth like a cat in the sun.
Birkenstock-wearing glamour girl and mother of two by immaculate conception, Daisy Harris still isn’t sure if she writes erotica. Her paranormal romances start out innocently enough. However, her characters behave like complete sluts. Much to Miss Harris’s dismay, the sex tends to get completely out of hand.
If you like science-y subplots, fantastical creatures, and red-hot chemistry, you’ll love Daisy Harris. You can find her on Twitter, Facebook and at www.thedaisyharris.com.
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