King's Ransom. Jackie Ashenden
A dream.
Despite the small yacht I kept in the boathouse at the foot of the cliffs, I’d never escaped and I was never going to.
Dad might be in jail, but he wasn’t the only one with a life sentence. That was fine, though. It was something I’d accepted long ago.
I glanced down to check the time again.
Quarter to ten.
Time for my prisoner to get the hell up.
I put my coffee down on the table and went back into the house, making my way into the wing that had once housed my stepsister and Dad’s second wife, and which I’d had renovated as guest quarters.
There was room enough to house an entire football team, though right now there was only the one occupant.
The unexpected little virgin I’d kidnapped the night before.
I strode down the hall that ran the length of the wing, the polished floorboards shining in the sunlight coming through the windows.
Arriving at Imogen’s door, I stopped outside it and knocked lightly.
There was no response.
Jesus, she’d better still be in there. Not that she’d be able to escape even if she wanted to, not given the security I’d surrounded the house with. The place was a fortress. Nothing got in or out. Including her.
Still, it was better to be safe than sorry so I didn’t wait, pushing the door open and stepping inside.
The room faced the ocean, one wall just glass to enhance the view. A king-sized bed had been pushed up against the wall at right angles to the glass, and in the centre of the bed, all curled up like a sleepy cat, was Imogen.
Sunlight fell over the bed, her long, silky pale hair tangled across the white linen of the pillowcases, a sheet wrapping around her middle, leaving the rest of her uncovered. She hadn’t even bothered to undress, and was still wearing her white dress.
Her hands were tucked under her chin, her pale lashes lying motionless on her cheeks, deeply asleep. A smile curved that pretty mouth I’d kissed the night before, as if she was tucked up in her own bed and having a lovely dream, not a prisoner of Sydney’s most infamous King.
Lust flickered to life inside me, dark and dirty. I wanted to go over to the bed, pull away her dress, uncover her satiny, strokeable skin and ravage her carnal mouth. Find out whether she’d be as wild and electric with my dick inside her as I thought she’d be. Whether she’d shock those long dead parts of me back into life with a touch...
Ignoring the lust, I leaned against the doorframe instead, taking a moment to study her uninterrupted.
Last night she’d been happy that I’d kidnapped her and even though her lack of fear of me had been annoying, it did tell me one thing: being captured by me was preferable to being her father’s prisoner.
I wondered why. Her father had his own fledgling crime syndicate going on, extortion and violence the means he used to keep his followers loyal, and being related to someone like that wasn’t exactly going to be a picnic. Hell, I should know. I was related to a prick like that myself.
But why was being my prisoner preferable to being his? I didn’t use violence, not these days, but I was going to use her the way he had—for my own ends. The only thing that distinguished me from him was that my goal was ultimately to protect people.
Pushing myself away from the doorframe, I moved over to the side of the bed. She slept on, completely unaware that her kidnapper was standing beside her, staring at her.
Hell. The woman had no sense of danger whatsoever.
You like that. You like that a lot.
Imogen shifted, making a sexy noise and snuggling into the pillow. The top of her strapless dress had pulled down, her rounded breasts pushing against it.
My cock, the predictable fuck, hardened at the view. I ignored it.
‘Wake up, little one.’ I couldn’t keep the growl out of my voice. ‘I’m getting tired of waiting for you.’
She made another of those noises, then her lashes fluttered and she sighed, a sliver of green appearing as she opened her eyes.
Automatically, I searched her face for any signs of fear but there were none. Apparently, waking up to find me standing beside her bed wasn’t frightening or even all that surprising.
In fact, as her gaze found mine, that delicious velvety mouth turned up in a slow and sleepy smile.
She’s delectable.
The heat I’d been fighting tightened its grip.
‘Oh,’ she said, the word exhaled on a long, relieved-sounding breath. ‘Thank God. I was afraid you were a dream.’
‘I’m not a dream,’ I said flatly. ‘I’m a nightmare.’
She grinned then threw her arms above her head, stretching unselfconsciously in the sunlight like a sleepy cat. ‘No, you’re not. And it was definitely not a nightmare.’
The top of her dress dipped even lower, revealing lots of pale silky skin, and, despite myself, I couldn’t stop staring. My hands itched to tug that fabric down, to see what colour her nipples were and what they might taste like if I sucked on them.
‘Are you sure?’ I finally dragged my gaze from her chest, but looking into her eyes wasn’t any better. They were wide, the colour of new grass, and I caught a hint of her scent—roses and heat...
Delicious.
‘Oh, I’m sure.’ She blinked at me, apparently unaware of how close to the knife-edge I was. ‘I can even tell you about it if you want.’
‘I do not want.’ I kept my voice cold, trying to force away the ache in my groin. ‘What I would like is for you to listen. I have some things I need to say to you.’
‘Really?’ Her tongue crept out, small and pink, touching her top lip. The move wasn’t flirtatious but I was riveted anyway. ‘What things?’
I knew I should turn away, look at something other than that small pink tongue and soft mouth; that tiny mole near her upper lip; the pulse at the base of her pale throat.
But that would be to admit I wasn’t in control of this situation, that somehow she had the power here, and there was no way in hell I was doing that.
So I continued to stare at her. ‘Your father. I’ve told him I have you.’
Her gold-tipped lashes swept down, veiling her gaze. ‘Oh. I see.’ Slowly she pushed herself up so she was sitting on the bed, tugging up the top of her dress as she did so, which was probably a good thing considering the state of my damn cock. ‘And what did he say?’
‘I didn’t give him a chance to say anything. Once he’s got the message he’ll call me.’
She sat with her head bent, looking down at her hands twisted in her lap. Her pale hair lay over her shoulders and streamed down her back, gleaming in the sun like new minted gold.
There was a stillness to her now, that vibrating energy muted. ‘So what’s going to happen now then?’
‘What do you mean, what’s going to happen now?’ I frowned. ‘Nothing’s going to happen now. You’re my prisoner and you stay here. End of story.’
‘I don’t care about that.’ She lifted her head. ‘What I want to know is when you’re going to ruin me. I mean, that’s what you said you were going to do.’ Something that looked a lot like disappointment glittered in her eyes. ‘Or did you not mean it?’
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