Yield to Me (14 page)

There was a lightweight blanket at
her feet she must have kicked aside while she slept. The dimness in the room
was provided by a wall lamp by the door not giving off any more light than a
candle would. Somewhere close by the sound of a ticking clock broke the
otherwise eerie silence. Her brows furrowed with confusion until she became
alert enough to realize what she was looking into. It was a mirror on the ceiling
directly above the bed. She would have never pegged Brent for that kind of man.
Her feelings flip-flopped between shock and worry, and something else,
something wicked and delicious.

Instincts drew her gaze to a corner
in the room; the outline of a shadow revealing she wasn’t alone. She found
Brent relaxing in a chair, watching her intently. He leaned forward until his
features were in the light, and the unexpected concern in his eyes caused
butterflies to flutter wildly in her stomach.
Am I just imagining the tenderness reflected in his dark gaze?

He’d abducted her, yet Sophie was
beginning to have strong doubts about his motives. He didn’t act the way she
thought a kidnapper should. Though she had nothing to compare it to, intuition
told her that most of the time she had nothing to fear from him. Not as a
kidnapper anyway. As a man and lover, he took her breath away.

“You get your kicks watching women
sleep?” He didn’t have to respond, the devilish look in his eyes did his
talking for him. “And I see you’re into, ah, kinky sex.” She shouldn’t have
brought attention to the mirror on the ceiling but it was too late now, they
both glanced up at their reflections.

Brent laughed, sincerely amused.
“You have a lot to learn. A mirror on the ceiling doesn’t imply kinky sex.
Maybe just two people who enjoy watching each other while they’re fucking.”

His words conjured up a steamy
visual of the two of them that instantly aroused Sophie.
An
image of them naked, entwined in sheets and making love beneath the mirror.
Instant heat swept across her cheeks, which caused his smile to grow into a knowing
wolf’s grin. It was as if he knew what she was thinking. Or, maybe he was
thinking it himself. Sophie knew when a man wanted her, and he’d had that look
in his eyes from the moment they’d met at the museum. Jonathan had that look
too, only she’d never felt an ounce of desire for him.

“I just purchased the boat six
months ago and haven’t had a chance to spend much time on it yet. The mirror is
compliments of the last owner, some fifty-six year old banker going through a
midlife crisis. It’s obvious by his chosen red light district décor that he was
a wannabe playboy.” His stare, gleaming with amusement, held hers captive. “At
least he was smart enough to keep his bad taste in the bedroom.”

Sophie’s gaze moved about the room,
taking in the mirrors and suggestive artwork, and the lighting fixtures designed
to keep the atmosphere sinfully intimate.

“He even left a generous supply of
condoms in the nightstand drawer next to the bed.”

“Why did you buy the boat?” Sophie
asked, deciding it was a much safer topic than the subject of condoms.

He shrugged. “My intentions were to
take a year off and sail around the world, but things kept getting in the way.”

“Kidnapping…you mean?”

His teeth flashed brightly in the
gloom. “You know, I haven’t even slept in this bed…yet.”

Sophie felt a pleasant tingle run
down the length of her spine when he ran his gaze over her. He had a lot of
nerve, standing there and intimidating her with his sheer presence and that
speculative gleam in his eyes.

“You took my clothes off.” It took a
conscious effort not to look at her appearance in the mirror again.

“Not all of them,” he pointed out,
his gaze dropping down the front of her shirt in a lazy sweep.

Sophie reached up to find it was
open. She clutched the ends together over her breasts, unable to stop the flow
of arousal in her belly. Then his interest fell to her naked thighs. She
glanced away from him, making the mistake of glancing up at the ceiling, which
only served to keep the fire in her blood simmering.

“How did I get here?” She hated the
fact that her voice trembled, revealing her emotions.

“I carried you.”

Sophie wondered if he had trouble,
knowing that with her height she wasn’t a lightweight. “I guess I should thank
you for not letting me fall into the ocean and drowning.”

“It crossed my mind,” he remarked in
a tone she couldn’t identify. He studied her thoughtfully for a moment, the interest
reflected in his gaze alarming her with its intensity. “Why are you so afraid
of the water?”

That was the last thing she expected
him to ask. Why should he care? She lowered her gaze from his, clamping down on
her bottom lip. Her eyes swelled with tears. “I can’t talk about it,” she
whispered finally, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Talking about it might help,” Brent
surprised her by saying kindly. Sophie shook her head vigorously, praying he
would let it drop. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he asked, “Would
you like something to drink?”

She managed a choking laugh. “I’m
hungry.” Her teary gaze swung up to his, the double meaning behind her innocent
comment obvious to them both. Thank God her growling stomach backed up what she
really meant.

His masculine chuckle spread over
Sophie like a ray of sunshine, leaving her skin tingling in places.
“Unfortunately our dinner is feeding the fish right now. It went over the side
when I dropped it to catch you. I’ll see what I can round up in the galley.”

Sophie clamped down on her lip to
keep from crying out for him to stay. She didn’t want to be left alone. It was
easy forgetting where she was when he was there, keeping her mind busy. His
large presence made her feel safe and protected. Panic nearly overwhelmed her
the closer he moved to the door. He’d told her they weren’t leaving the marina
but if he’d changed his mind and they were floating out to sea somewhere right
now, she didn’t want to know. She was too chicken to face that possibility.

Escape seemed further away than
ever. Brent couldn’t have chosen a better place to ensure she wouldn’t even
try. She reluctantly glanced at the small porthole, which was covered with a
sheer red curtain. Revealing they weren’t below water level was a small
comfort. He opened the door and was gone before Sophie could find her voice.
She didn’t waste any time rolling off the bed once he closed the door behind
him. There was no way she was going to be lying there when he returned, like
some frightened virgin waiting to be conquered.

She glanced around at her
surroundings, noticing two other doors besides the one Brent disappeared
through. After snooping around, she discovered one opened up to a tiny closet
and the other to a bathroom about the same size. She paused long enough to
survey her disheveled appearance in the mirror over the sink, and then reached
up to run her fingers through her untamed hair.

Goodness, she hardly recognized
herself. There was nothing in her reflection to indicate she was a woman of
means. She fingered the hanging threads where the buttons had popped off her
shirt, embarrassed to discover the dark outline of her nipples were showing
right through the thin material. Maybe Brent hadn’t noticed.

She turned on the tap, letting the
water run a few seconds before scooping some in her palms, then running it over
her tear-streaked face and burning eyes. All too soon a noise from the outer room
told her Brent had returned. She emerged from the bathroom hoping she looked
more composed.

Her gaze fell briefly to the tray in
his hands. “I suppose this is to be my new prison?” She didn’t take her stare
off him as he walked across the room, her mouth watering over the delicious
aroma reaching her nose. Brent didn’t look at her until he made his way to the
small table beneath the porthole.

“For the time
being.”
He set the tray down.

“And how long is that? How long
before you get the ransom money?” Sophie slapped her hands on her hips in an unconscious
challenge.

“I see your spunk has returned.” He
turned her way after straightening up. His gaze dropped to the front of her
shirt, narrowing.

Sophie tried to ignore the gleam of
interest in his eyes. “I’ll give you the money myself if you’ll let me go. I
have plenty.”

When a tick appeared in his jaw and
his stare didn’t waver she glanced down, fully prepared to see the faint
outline of her nipples through the material. What she saw was far more
damaging, and revealing. The front of her shirt was wet in places; plastered
against her breasts as if it’d been glued there. Her nipples were clearly
visible through the material, as well as the rounded shape of her breasts. She
gasped sharply and reached up to pluck the material away.

With growing panic, Sophie glanced
back at Brent but his expression hadn’t changed. Maybe he’d fallen asleep with
his eyes open or something, because he didn’t so much as blink. Then, as if in
slow motion, his lazy gaze swept up to meet hers. What she saw there caused her
whole body to come to life.

“You’re too late.” His voice was low
and sexy, filling Sophie’s blood with fire. “Is this a new trick to get me to
let down my guard?”

Acute embarrassment coupled with the
feeling of helplessness ruled the biting response on her tongue. That and the
need to deny the feelings he roused in her. “I’m glad one of us finds this
amusing. But then, you’re not the one being terrorized…”

“Terrorized!”
He burst out laughing; the deep, rich sound flowing over Sophie in
a sensual caress that caused her breath to catch with sharp awareness, even as
it choked her with annoyance.

“Yes!” she insisted.

“You’ve been treated like a princess
compared to most kidnap victims.” His arms made a sweep of the food. “That’s
not just bread and water on your plate,” he said in reference to the steamed
vegetables and seared salmon.

Eyebrows arching, Sophie went on
recklessly, “I’ve been attacked…”

Eyes brimming with a mixture of
desire and humor, Brent’s gaze moved over her again, this time inspecting her
for a different reason. “Were you hurt?”

Crossing her arms, her chin rose
stubbornly. “I’m being shuffled around from place to place…”

Brent crossed his arms. “It’s better
than being buried alive in a wooden box with a jug of water and an air tube to
keep you company.”

Sophie was going to wipe that smug
grin off his face if it killed her. “I’ve been stripped and, and, manhandled.”
She couldn’t bring herself to put into words what she’d allowed him to do to
her body, aware she’d enjoyed every minute. “You practically forced yourself on
me.”

The grin on Brent’s face slowly
faded as the laughter in his hooded eyes disappeared, leaving a lazy, seductive
look in its place.
Leaving her pussy hot and wet and her
knees weak.
Sophie realized her mistake the minute the words passed
through her lips. She wasn’t in the habit of letting her tongue run away with
her, but lately she was becoming a pro at it.

“Manhandled.”
The word was spoken softly. “That sounds like a serious complaint.”

“Yes,” she insisted, unconsciously
adding fuel to the fire. She didn’t like the expression crossing his face, as
though he was contemplating something. Maybe now was a good time to change the
subject.
After all, what do I really know
about him?
Other than his kisses turned her inside out. He was right, damn
him, he’d treated her much better than any kidnap victim had a right to expect.
If she’d left well enough alone, they’d still be back in his cozy apartment,
waiting for Jonathan to pay the ransom.

She took a nervous step backward.
“I’m sorry; I don’t usually let my tongue run away like that.”

The unyielding look in his eyes
revealed her apology fell on deaf ears. She glanced around the small room
looking for an avenue of escape, finding none that didn’t include going
topside. For a moment she weighed what she thought was the lesser evil. By the
time she made her mind up to duck into the bathroom and lock the door it was
too late. Brent closed the distance between them with blinding speed.

“You’re not very smart, princess.
There are rules to this little game,” he surprised her by saying.

“Ru-Rules?” she stammered with
rounded eyes. Her pulse leapt at his nearness, which had nothing to do with
being afraid.

Brent nodded slowly. “Rule number
one, the kidnapper calls the shots. Whether that insults your delicate sensibilities
or not doesn’t matter. What he says goes, period.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“Rule number two, the kidnapper has
the right to stuff a sock in your mouth and keep you tied to the bed if you
prove difficult.”

Her eyes widened even more. “But…”

“And rule number three, never
insinuate that a kidnapper is lacking, in any area.”

“I didn’t imply anything like that,”
she responded, her tone not sounding very convincing. She tried to step away
but there was nowhere to go, since his body trapped her against the bed.
“Please…” The air between them became electrically charged.