I’d waved the red flag in front of the bull and managed to win so much more than just the match. The thought of texting my friends almost erased the trepidation from my mind. But the way Sebastian looked at me—like a ravenous wolf—overrode that brief joy.

“Do it slowly.” He leaned against the doorframe to my closet, his hard cock on full display.

“Not part of the deal.” I slid my shaking fingers along the sides of my panties and shucked them off. When I stood, he drank me in, his gaze licking my flesh with a heat that threatened to burn me where I stood. I hated how wet I was, but there was no way to hide it. Not anymore.

“Get in bed. Now.” Any hesitation he’d shown earlier was gone. His usual intensity was back, but magnified a hundred-fold. What had I gotten myself into?

He backed away from the door, giving me just enough room to shimmy by. I hurried away from him, but he stayed on my heels and slapped the light off in the bathroom. Leaning over, I ripped the sheets back.

“Fucking hell.” He smoothed his palm down my back, but stopped just above my ass.

I scooted away from him and lay down, pulling the covers up. He followed, sliding into bed right next to me and wrapping me in his arms.

“Sebasti—”

His mouth met mine, cutting off the ground rules I intended to repeat. His tongue set off a chain reaction of desire as it coaxed mine into action. Sebastian didn’t just kiss, he overwhelmed. My eyes fluttered closed as he slipped his fingers into my hair and pulled. He slanted his mouth over mine as he flattened his other hand against my back and pressed me closer.

I’d been kissed plenty of times. Link had shoved his tongue down my throat more times than I could count. But I’d never been truly, deeply, passionately kissed until Sebastian’s lips had met mine that very first time. Every stroke from his tongue, each nip from his teeth—it all coalesced into the most potent drug, and I became powerless to resist.

I could blow the deal, resist him and tell him it needed to stop. Because it did. Because I was losing myself in the passion of his kiss and the feel of his hands on me. He’d asked me to pretend. And I had. But at that moment, I wasn’t pretending. I didn’t have to. I wrapped my arms around him and ran one hand through his hair. I couldn’t even lie to myself and say I did it because I had to. I did it because I wanted to feel him, and because it felt better than anything I’d ever experienced. I was lost, spinning in the dark.

When he groaned into my mouth, a shock of delicious arousal skittered down my body and twisted between my legs. I bit his bottom lip. He answered by sliding his thigh between mine, his cock resting against my hip. So hard.

I pulled away. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“I believe it is. If you recall.” He yanked my hair, the slight sting adding to the raucous flood of arousal that pulsed through me. “You said that my hands couldn’t touch you below the belt. I’m not using my hands.” He darted his tongue along my lips and rubbed his thigh against my wet pussy. “So fucking wet.” He flipped me, then settled on top of me, his cock against my thigh as his lips found mine again.

I dug my nails into his back as he rested one palm at my throat and continued taking my breath away with his wicked tongue. He stole the protest from my lips and continued rubbing his thigh against me. When he slid against my clit just right, I moaned, unable to keep it locked inside anymore.

“Tell me I can taste you again.” He dropped kisses along my jawline.

“Not part of the deal.”

“Fuck the deal,” he growled and claimed my mouth again.

We kissed until his mouth became my only reference, the only thing I wanted.

He pulled away and stared into my eyes. “Tell me I can taste you again.” The demand in his voice spoke to the darkest part of me. I moved my hips against him, grinding on his leg and wishing his cock was deep inside me.

His grip tightened on my hair. “Tell me.”

“No.”

He roared and dove back to my lips, his drugging kiss sending me even higher as I shamelessly rubbed my pussy on him.

I ran my hands down to his ass and dug my nails into the muscle.

His guttural roar passed my lips. “Let me.” His wild eyes met mine, and I wanted to give in, to break and let him have what he wanted, and more. All of me.

But the weight of the chain on my ankle wouldn’t let me. The invisible shackles on my wrist told me it couldn’t happen. None of this was real. Tears pricked at my eyes, and the fire inside me flickered and died.

“No.”

His brow wrinkled and he kissed me again, then stopped when I didn’t kiss back. “Why?” He released the grip on my hair and ran his hand along my cheek, all softness, though desire still lit his eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

“Yes.” A tear escaped and he swiped it away as he moved off me and pulled me into his chest.

“Where?” Genuine concern colored his question.

The tears came in a torrent. “Everywhere.”

“Shhh.” He hugged me close as I cried.

“You stole everything from me.” I sobbed, but instead of fighting him, I clutched him tighter. “Everything.”

He didn’t respond, just stroked my hair and held me as I fell apart. I cried until my ribs ached and my tears streaked onto his chest.

When I quieted, he smoothed the hair from my face and kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry.”

I withdrew and wrapped my arms around myself. “No you aren’t. If you were sorry, you’d let me go.”

“I can’t.” He sighed.

“You’re afraid I’ll tell?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t think I can live without you.”

The words would have warmed me if they’d come from anyone else. From him, they were cold prison bars.

“Why?” I sniffled.

“I don’t know.” He pulled the sheet up and tucked it around me. “Ever since that dance, you’ve been embedded deep inside me, in places I didn’t even know existed. I didn’t know what to do about it at first, but then it hit me. I needed you.”

I pressed my forehead to his pec. “You know what most people do when they develop a crush?”

“It’s not a crush.”

I ignored him. “When normal people have a crush, they ask the crushee on a date. Did that ever occur to you?”

“It did, but you were with that halfwit. And asking for a date wasn’t—I don’t know—enough.”

“So kidnapping was your only option?”

“It made the most sense.”

“Only for you.” I leaned away and glared at him. “Why couldn’t you think about me?”

He furrowed his brow. “You’re all I think about.”

“Does that seem healthy to you?”

He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. I knew it then, and I know it now. You belong with me.”

“You can’t decide that for me.”

“I haven’t. Don’t you understand? I’ve done all this so you can find out the same thing I already know. It’s like a shortcut.” The way he said it made it seem so rational, even though the words were far beyond the pale of reason.

I put my palm against his cheek, and he pressed against it. “I don’t work that way.”

“How do you work?”

I propped myself on my elbow and perused him from above. “You know that’s the first time you’ve asked the right question?”

A smile ghosted along the corner of his lips. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, it’s the same with my students. They’ll butt their heads against a wall over and over again while trying to understand a concept when all they have to do is ask the right question.”

“So what’s the answer?”

“I don’t work well with captivity.”

He smirked. “You just haven’t given it a real chance yet.”

“Psycho. I also don’t do well with deals.” I hastened to add, “though the one we just made still stands.”

“The captivity isn’t going to change.”

My hope sagged.

“But maybe I can work on my tendency to make deals.”

It wasn’t huge, but it was progress. I’d take it. “All right.”

“But I still want things from you.” He tucked his hands behind his head. “And if I can’t do deals, you have to make them attainable somehow.”

I eased down and rested my head on his chest. “What things?”

“Your body, your thoughts, your feelings.”

“So, everything. You just want it all.”

“Yes.” Once again, he said it as if it were utterly reasonable to demand all of another person.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He draped his right hand across my shoulder, and we fell into a peaceful silence.

After a while, he said, “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. It wasn’t my intention.”

“I know.” But his words didn’t change the fact that I had to get away. His touch, his fiery kisses, and the passion he ignited inside me—none of it could ever grow into more unless I was free. The only way I could make him understand was to show him, and that’s just what I intended to do.

“The last one is sent.” He swiped across the screen of his tablet and the screen went blank.

“Will you tell me when they respond?” We’d spent the drive to the city sending carefully worded texts to Veronica, Link, and Mint. Anytime I tried to do something creative, he shut me down. “I’ve reviewed all your texts. I know your cadence. You can’t throw me off.” Despite the setback, I could have cried with joy to hear that my friends were worried about me.

I was certain Sebastian left out several details and texts from what he’d read me, but I could survive on what love they’d sent, even if it was relayed through him. I told Mint to stay strong and that things would be all right, Veronica that there were no hot men in the Amazon, and Link that I missed him. Sebastian had scowled as his fingers conveyed the message, but he sent it anyway. When we were finished, I could have sworn he seemed relieved.

The car maneuvered through traffic, the streets still busy even though it was a Saturday morning. Sunlight glinted from the high rises, and I stared at all the people walking along. They had no idea a prisoner sat inside a gilded cage only a few feet away. The doors had locked the moment I stepped into the car, and Sebastian wasn’t going to give me the chance to try and bang on the windows.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian studied me.

“Aside from being held captive while watching the world go on as usual? Nothing.”

“If the city is making you unhappy, I’m more than willing to take you back to the house.”

“No.” I gripped my elbows. “I paid dearly for this, so I’m going to take my time in the city.” And figure out a way to escape.

“I didn’t think you minded the payment that much.” His smirk appeared. “When you moaned in my mouth—”

I put my finger to his lips. “Just let me enjoy my time here, all right?”

“Fine by me.” He draped his arm across my shoulders.

I should have demanded he stop touching me, but it wasn’t worth the effort. It wasn’t that I enjoyed his scent or the feel of him against me. Not at all. I just had to give him some room to hope I’d comply with what he wanted. It was all a part of my plan.

He leaned close to my ear, his whisper sending a shiver down my spine. “The deal is still on for the evening, you know.”

“I know.” This time, I intended to avoid any more interaction than necessary. I’d stay strong.

The car pulled into a private garage at the base of a shiny high rise. When the door closed, Sebastian helped me from the car and walked me to the elevator.

“The penthouse is wired similarly to the house. If you pass the front door, I’ll get an alarm. The elevator won’t open for you, and the stairwell has a keypad.”

I stepped onto the waiting elevator. “What if there’s a fire?”

“I’ll save you.” His matter-of-fact tone had me arching an eyebrow.

“You’ll save me? I didn’t think the bad guy ever saved anyone but himself.”

He entered a code for the penthouse, and the elevator doors closed. “You think I’m the bad guy?”

“I know you are.” I leaned against the back wall of the elevator as we moved smoothly upward.

He leaned next to me. “Every bad guy is the hero of his own tale.”

“Seriously?” I gawked at him in the reflective door. “The hero?”

“I saved you from that dimwit, gave you a castle full of your favorite things, and am prepared to lay down my life for you in case of fire or other calamity. What about all that?”

It was so insane that I couldn’t help but smile. “If I were a lit teacher, I would likely comment on the importance of perspective. Sadly, I’m a science teacher, so I can tell you, without reservation, that your facts are baseless conjecture.”

The doors slid open and revealed a luxurious penthouse with views that would take even a New York realtor’s breath away. Dark wood floors, floor to ceiling windows, and rich furnishings. Masculine and polished, the space had been meticulously decorated to fit Sebastian’s tastes. Simple, Spartan, but somehow luxurious at the same time.

I tried to make an unimpressed face, though the sunlight streaming through the windows kept drawing my eye.

“It’s not as nice as your little Trenton cottage, but it’ll have to do.” Sebastian closed the door behind us, then strode into the wide-open living room.

A noise from the kitchen caught my attention.

Rita stood at the expansive granite island and chopped strawberries. Her being here was whiplash on my mind; I’d just seen her at the house for breakfast.

“When did you get here?” I walked over to her.

“Mr. Lindstrom sent the helicopter for me.” She shook her head. “Never again. Dios mio, never again.”

I glanced at him over my shoulder as he fiddled with his phone. “Bringing your cook? You are spoiled.”

“No, I’m spoiling you.” He tapped his screen, and low music filtered through hidden speakers. “I usually order in if I’m in the city, but I brought Rita to make you more comfortable. She’ll stay in the suite below us. Though her services won’t be needed tonight. I’m taking you out.”

Out. Possibilities for escape blossomed in my mind and wilted just as quickly. Sebastian wouldn’t risk losing me in the city.

“Lunch will be ready in an hour.” Rita wiped her hands on her apron, then dropped the knife she’d been using into a metal lockbox.

I pointed at it. “Really?”

Sebastian sank onto a leather couch and put his feet up on the plush ottoman. “Really.” He waved his hand at the stunning view. “Now that we’re here, please regale me with your plan for escape.”

I snagged a strawberry from Rita and strode to the window. The ripe fruit burst in my mouth as I took in the equally mouthwatering cityscape. The sun floated high overhead in an azure sky, and Central Park beckoned from just a few blocks away.

“I’m glad you asked.” I turned and took in the navy polo that sat perfectly on his broad chest and the jeans slung low across his hips. “First thing is to kill you when you’re asleep, then raid your bank account, and finally escape to the Amazon where I will open my own world-class field school.”

He nodded. “Solid plan. I like it. Just one question, though. How are you going to take me out?”

I held my hands out and made a show of inspecting them. “I could strangle you.”

Rita gave me an awkward glance, then disappeared into a large pantry.

“I’m afraid you simply don’t have the strength necessary for that.”

“Oh, I don’t know. When I’m motivated—and I am—I can do just about anything.”

“Want to try it?” He patted his lap. “See if you have the strength before you fully commit to this plan?” The sparkle in his eye was damn sexy even though we were discussing his potential murder.

“No, thank you.”

“Do you have a plan B?” He let his gaze trail down my body. “One that gets even more physical than the strangling scenario?”

“How do you mean?”

“If you sat on my face, I’d be more than happy to suffocate, just so long as you came first. And I can guarantee you would.” He licked his lips.

Jeeeeeez. I sank into a side chair with a view out the windows. Not because my legs had gone weak from the mental image of me sitting on his face. I was just tired. “Never mind. You ruined it.”

He laughed. “You’re only saying that because my plan appealed to you.”

“Suffocating you, yes. Sitting on your face, no.” A blush crept into my cheeks at the lie.

“You can admit your desires to me. I’m the only one who would never judge you.”

“That’s reassuring. I desire to be free.”

“You are. With me.” He swiped a wide tablet from the ottoman and, with the click of a few buttons, the music turned off and a large television rose from what had been a bare patch of wood floor. “Since you’ve yet to start your grand escape, how about a movie?”

“A movie?”

“Yeah.” He patted the couch next to him. “I have some calls to make this afternoon, and we’re going out tonight, so let’s watch a flick while we have down time.”

“I don’t know…” I glanced to the doors leading to different parts of the penthouse.

“I’ll show you around after, and you can work on your bedsheet rope while I’m on the phone. All right?” His smirk both infuriated me and temped a smile from my lips.

“I suppose a movie would be okay.” I didn’t move to sit next to him.

“You have to make things attainable, remember?” He patted the sofa again. “Please”—he said the word as if peanut butter coated his tongue and made speech difficult—“watch a movie with me?”

I had promised to try. And a movie was well within the bounds of what I was willing to give. I rose and sat next to him, leaving a few inches of space between us.

“That’s all I’m going to get?”

“You said you wanted a movie. Here I am, ready to watch a movie.” I tucked my feet up under me on the couch and stared at the blank television screen.

He grumbled, but clicked something on the touch screen again. Curtains fell from the ceiling, covering the windows.

“Leave them.” I put my hand on his. “I love the light.”

“If you keep your hand on me during the movie, I’ll leave them open.”

I squinted at him. “That sounds a lot like a deal.”

“Not a deal, just a request.” He tapped the same button on the remote, and the curtains stopped falling.

I should have removed my hand. I didn’t. There wasn’t a transaction between us, but an understanding. If I took my hand away, I wouldn’t lose anything. If I left it, I wasn’t giving in; I was making my own choice.

He tapped a few more buttons, and the TV clicked on, sound pouring through hidden speakers all around us. The Lionsgate insignia flashed across the screen. Music played—the notes of a piano that I knew by heart. A hallway appeared, the walls stark white, the furniture sterile, as if recently bought and never used. Then the flash of a perfect man wearing white briefs. When the narration began, goose bumps erupted down my arms and legs. American Psycho.

Sebastian turned his hand over and entwined our fingers. “I know this is your favorite movie,” he whispered.

On paper, my favorite movie was Pitch Perfect. But, in truth, Sebastian was right. Christian Bale’s portrayal of Patrick Bateman had enthralled me from the first moment I heard his opening monologue. I’d never bought the book or borrowed it from the library for fear of someone seeing it in my collection. And also for fear that I’d love it even more than the film. But it was just a movie, right? Enjoying an entertaining film that millions of others had enjoyed didn’t say anything about me.

“Stop thinking and enjoy it.” He squeezed my fingers as the psychopath on the screen told us “I simply am not there.”