After the cops have all the bad guys in custody, Lars puts me into his car and we’re headed to the interstate.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“My safe house. You’re a witness. Slate has some slimy-ass lawyers and he’ll probably bond out of jail within hours. After that there’s no telling what they’ll do to get rid of you.”

I shudder in my seat and he flies down the highway. I’m wrapped in a blanket that the EMTs gave to me after the police, fire department and all manner of rescue workers showed up to arrest Slate and his crew, and also examine all the girls found on the premises who had been doped out of their minds.

He squeezes my hand in his, and I realize he has not stopped touching me since he found me. And I mean not for a second. When he put me in the car, he put me in through the driver’s side and set me down on the passenger seat like a priceless package.

I should pull away, but I don’t want to. My hand wants to be held. My hand wants to be held by his hand, specifically.

And the drive is kind of nice. I’m noticing Christmas lights and holiday displays on the lawns of houses I never bothered to glance at before.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re scared. You’re OK now. They’ll have to get through me to get to you. And they can’t get through me.”

His words feel like a long stream of hot water down my body. The kind that makes my spine let go of all tension, from my neck all the way down to my tailbone. And deeper. Every time he speaks, every time he squeezes, I can feel myself soaking these little panties I’m wearing, and I can feel my nipples straining against the fabric of this too-tight bra.

The direction we’re headed isn’t anywhere near our apartment complex. In fact, we’re headed into the nicer part of town. These houses have wide lawns, tall trees and swimming pools. It’s the kind of middle-class neighborhood my mom used to dream about for us when she was alive.

Sadly, we never got there.

But then Lars keeps driving past these properties, and the houses get bigger and farther apart. Eventually, we roll past one gated community after another, and soon it looks like we’re headed into the woods and up a winding mountain road. The tree line is closer to the road now, and the pine trees themselves are taller. I could be crazy, but the air actually smells cleaner the higher we ascend.

“You live up here? On top of the mountain?”

“Not exactly. I have a house up here, but I hardly ever stay here.”

We speed by an overlook and the view of the city below is breathtaking. I had no idea anybody lived this far up the mountain.

Eventually we come to a huge iron gate, which swings open as soon as our car approaches.

Past the gates, my mouth drops open. We’re on a long, cobblestone driveway lined with overgrown but pretty hedges and willow trees. There’s a wide clearing with a pond and a tiny island in the middle, with a moss-covered Romanesque ruin. If I think that island is straight out of Jane Austen, the sight of the house itself makes me think that Lars might be an American Mr. Darcy in disguise. It’s a gigantic limestone structure, bigger than any building on my college campus. “Where…are we?”

“Your new home.”

I am totally agog as he parks the car under the house in an expansive garage that houses just about every muscle car known to mankind.

“Can I ask a question?”

He doesn’t respond, only gets out of the car without letting go of my hand and slides me right out into his arms.

“I can walk, Lars. I’m not broken.”

“I like to carry you,” he says, and he sounds just like a caveman. Like he’s physically and mentally incapable of grasping the fact that maybe I’d like to walk on my own again at some point. He’s holding me in his two arms like a groom holding a bride. He pushes doors open with his feet and mounts stairs two at a time. I feel like a spoiled cat whose feet never touch the floor.

Still, a part of me likes it. It could get dangerous, him refusing to break physical contact with me. But it’s the kind of dangerous that doesn’t scare me. The only thing that scares me is what might happen if and when we kiss again. Things could get hot pretty fast, and I’ll have to explain to him that I’m a virgin.

Eventually, we go to his room, which is not so much a bedroom but a suite. Lars moves me past a lush four-poster bed, through to a state-of-the-art bathroom.

At the sink, he finally sets me down but keeps a hand on my back through the blanket.

“Wash your face,” he says, pointing to some high-end facial scrub.

“Huh?”

“I want your face bare when I kiss you again.”

My excitement spikes. So, it wasn’t just “in the moment” when he kissed me last time.

“Listen to me, buster. I’m gonna take off this makeup for three reasons. One: these shades are spring and I’m obviously a summer. Two: this shit is skanky as hell. And three: I’m starving, and I can’t have on any lipstick when I’m cramming food in my face super hard.”

Lars grins. “I don’t know why, but thinking about you stuffing food in your face is about the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

I grin and turn to the sink so he can’t see me blush.

His fingers very carefully roam the small of my back while I wash my face. It feels good to take all of it off; I can only imagine how it’s going to feel when I take off all this constraining white lace.

I turn back to Lars and I can see his jaw clenching. He’s holding back the urge to do something.

Rip away the blanket? Take me on the bathroom floor?

I clear the way forward by dropping the blanket myself, forcing him to let go of my back for a split second. I hear the faintest of growls as his other hand grips my waist.

“You have a dog?”

“No, I don’t. That was me. I don’t like it when I’m forced to let go of you.”

I smile. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He grunts, “Irrelevant.”

“Excuse me?”

“Of course you’re not going anywhere. That’s not even a question. The fact is my body, my brain, something keeps telling me to keep my hands on you at all times. I feel…normal when I’m touching you.”

I smirk. “You think you might win a truck if you can keep your hand on me for 24 hours?”

Lars cocks his head at me, looking confused at first. “Is that a joke about those car dealership contests?”

“Um…yes? Wow, I really need to work on my material.”

He nods. “I have a hard time with jokes. I get it. It’s funny. I appreciate jokes, I’m just a little weird, I guess.”

I place one hand on top of his huge paw that is gripping my hip and slide my other hand up over the ripples and sinews of his huge, muscular arm. My eyes study his arms and chest and abs while I speak. “You’re not weird. You’re my rescuer.”

“You said I was weird the first time we met.”

I blush at the memory of how he made me feel when he towered over me in my doorway.

“I already liked you then,” I said.

“I know,” he says, before his lips crash into mine with a restrained power.

My hand goes to his chest and I hear a rumble coming from him, like a wild animal getting ready to pounce. His lips are doing magical things to my body. I feel that these panties are forever ruined.

His grip on my hips intensifies and I feel his thumbs fiddling with my waistband.

I think for a moment that I’m about to finally lose my virginity, when my body betrays me.

My stomach lets out a huge growl.

Lars pulls back.

“You’re hungry.”

I shake my head, but his whole demeanor has changed.

“Hang on,” he says, pulling his phone out. “Ordering you food.”

“You know what I really want? I want out of these…things…that Slate put on me.”

“Perfect,” he says with a glower. “Because so do I.”