Thanks to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorited the last chapter. I appreciate every one of them! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! :)
XXXX
She's a mess of gorgeous chaos,
You can see it in her eyes.
Pasted smile, nervous laugh
A tangled web of truth and lies
-Crystal Haws-
Chapter 2
This had to be a dream.
No, not a dream. A nightmare. This sinister intruder every bit as terrifying as any monster she might find hidden under her bed or buried within the depths of her closet.
Swallowing hard, Sophie stared nervously up at the big man, even as he glared down at her, each of them silently sizing up the other. She jumped slightly as he pushed himself off the door and straightened to his full height, her neck straining in an uncomfortable position as she tried to maintain eye contact with him.
She braced herself for a swift assault, certain he had some cruel and vicious torment planned for her. But instead, he surprised her by taking a step back, his attention shifting from her to the house around them, as he observed the surroundings that, so far, he'd only explored in the dark.
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Gunnar examined the parts of the house he could see from where he stood, from the framed snapshots that graced the walls of the entryway, to the casual, cozy furniture, to the worn, rustic floors of the home, absorbing every detail in his quest to satisfy his curiosity regarding the woman he had cornered in front of him. He was pleased with what he saw, a clean, modest sanctuary, the décor as soft and warm and inviting as it's captivating occupant. He found that the ambiance appealed to him, a consoling comfort that was a stark contrast to the chaotic lifestyle that he had chosen for himself.
Grateful for the brief respite from his fierce scrutiny, Sophie took the moment to study the man's appearance, trying to build an accurate description, in the event she was lucky enough to live to report the incident. He was dressed plainly in a pair of worn jeans and a blue flannel shirt, which was opened to reveal a plain gray t-shirt underneath. His hair was dirty blonde and slightly unkempt, his eyes almost the same insipid blue as the faded flannel he wore. She took a particular interest in the jagged scar that marred the worn skin of his right cheek, curious as to what type of extracurricular activities he had participated in to be awarded with such an enduring trophy.
Examining him as best she could in the dim light, her eyes scanned across his chest, moving downward toward his waist, searching for any indication that he might be armed, grimacing at the ridiculousness of the thought. Like he actually needed a weapon. Surely his fists were just as lethal as any gun or blade he could possibly possess.
Being in such close proximity to him, she hadn't failed to notice the trace of alcohol on his breath, and she briefly wondered if he might be drunk, or high, or both. Then his eyes settled on her again and she saw with unmistakable clarity that the sharp gaze cutting through her was as clear as any she had ever known, full of a raging intensity that warned her she had every right to be wary of this man.
"Nice place." he murmured, the deep timbre of his voice causing a faint flutter to course through the pit of her stomach, even as her blood ran cold.
"You have interesting taste." he added, matter-of-factly, as he drew close again. "Questionable. But interesting."
The biting undertone of his words left her wondering if he was referring to more than just her preferences in home décor. Offended, she stiffened, meeting his heady gaze.
"I don't know what you're doing here, but I want you to leave. Now." she stated bravely, trying to keep the tremor out of her own voice.
He rolled his shoulders slightly, the tilt of his head indicating that he'd heard her, his posture revealing he had no intention of granting her request. She cowered as he leaned over her again and braced himself on the door, unnervingly close.
"You got a name, Princess?" His voice was low. Intimidating.
She felt her stomach pitch again, and she closed her eyes, suddenly feeling light-headed. She found it hard to concentrate with him standing so close, the deep intonation of his voice offering promises both delectable and dangerous.
Ignoring his request, as he had her's, she tried to focus on the urgency of the situation, mentally plotting out a route to her escape. Although she adored its charm, the older house was very modest in size and from her current position in the entryway, she could see nearly all of the first floor area, save for the dining room at the back of the house, which she had converted into an office space. Unfortunately, the semi-open layout did not provide many opportunities for concealment or escape. With both the kitchen to her left and the living room to her right opening directly to the entryway, the small half bath underneath the stairs was the only space that even offered a door, and in order to reach it, she'd have to fight her way through the giant currently blocking her path.
As though he could read her thoughts, his hand slid from the door, dropping lower to close around her wrist, his grip firm but not painfully so. She gasped softly at the contact, the heated touch of his palm a stark contrast to his cold exterior and she opened her eyes in surprise, only to meet his fervid gaze, which was equally blazing.
He gave a tug as he stepped backward, pulling her with him as he moved toward the living room. Sophie followed closely behind him, not that she really had a choice. Experimentally, she tugged against his grip, which only confirmed what she already knew. There was was no way she would ever be able to break his hold on her, not unless she could find someway to convince him to do so.
He paused beside the couch, bringing her to a stop next to him as he switched on the lamp. Still caught in his unyielding grasp, she fidgeted uncomfortably as the pad of his thumb brushed in soft circles against her skin, the surface tingling from the unexpected touch. More out of discomfort than fear, she made another vain attempt to free her hand, but still the strange man held fast to her.
Staring at the solid wall of his shoulders, Sophie carefully weighed her options. She was no shrinking violet, but she wasn't stupid either. She knew it would not be in her best interest to provoke a physical confrontation when there was clearly no chance of her being the victor. And intuition told her that neither threats nor tears would have any effect on the threatening stranger looming in front of her. Unless she could talk him down from whatever thin ledge he was perched on, she would be completely at his mercy for as long as he so desired.
Turning to the woman beside of him, Gunnar felt her inpatient tugs and observed her wide, fearful eyes full of impassioned pleas and rising panic, smugly satisfied by the knowledge that, after weeks of endless pursuit, he finally had her full attention. Perhaps not in the most chivalrous of manners, but he couldn't deny it's effectiveness, none the less. Here they were isolated. No distractions. No interruptions.
Tonight, she was his, and his alone.
"Why are you here? What do you want?" she questioned, her voice, as timid as it was, reverberating loudly across the stillness of the room. Not that she was eager to hear his plans for her. The fierce look that marked his face unnerved her, made her feel weak. Still, at the moment, the revelation of his intentions seemed less intimidating than his foreboding silence.
"You invited me here." he stated plainly, after a moment of consideration. His fingers still skimmed along the delicate surface of her wrist, driving her to distraction.
"I think you're mistaken." she argued, trying once again to free herself. "I don't know you. I've never seen you before in my life."
He chuckled softly, his eyes blazing. "That's never stopped you before..."
Sophie blinked, confused by the cryptic nature of his remarks. She sensed a hidden meaning in his words, some ulterior motive that, as of yet, she was still unaware, and it unsettled her, leaving her uncertain as to how she should respond.
Gunnar watched her falter, the doubt that filled her eyes such a stark comparison to the unshakable confidence she emitted during her nightly excursions. His hand still held her frail wrist in a strong embrace and he could feel her pulse throbbing beneath the pressure of his fingers, the muscles flexing in silent protest against the uninvited contact. He imagined the thoughts that she had no doubt conjured up in her mind, images of pain and violence and endless suffering that he would surely inflict on her. How ironic that she'd put herself in considerably more danger by her own choices than she would ever face here, with him, in this room. His mood darkened as he recalled the events of that first night and he shifted his gaze, hoping to avoid having her see the anger that flared across his face at the memory.
Sophie sensed the sudden shift in his demeanor, the distant look in his eyes, the firm set of his strong jaw. She watched as his gaze darted about the room, falling everywhere but on her, no doubt taking stock of the few valuable items that were within view. For surely, that was the reason he was here, she surmised, as she observed the gradual smirk that appeared on his face when he spotted the large flatscreen on the opposite wall. He would take what he could, destroy what he couldn't, and leave the gruesome aftermath for some other unfortunate soul to find.
In light of those dark thoughts, he surprised her once again by releasing her and as he stepped past her toward the television, Sophie watched him intently, confused by the sudden shift in his attention. She saw him bend forward to grasp something off the shelf beside the large electronic and she racked her brain, trying to remember what it was that she would have left there that would provide such a diversion. Then he moved slightly, partially revealing the source of his interest, and she immediately spotted the digital video camera he held in his hand, recognizing it as her own, which he had apparently swiped from her office at some point during his invasion. She cringed inwardly as she watched him manhandle the delicate equipment, the compact mass nearly disappearing in the palm of his hand as he busied himself with the cables on the back of the television.
Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Sophie glanced nervously over her shoulder toward the entryway and the kitchen just beyond, where the promise of her cell phone awaited. She wondered how quickly she could reach it, and whether there was any chance of finding a weapon threatening enough to hold the big man off for the time it would take her to call the police. She envisioned the large butcher knife stuck in the center of the block on her counter top. If that wouldn't do the trick, then nothing would. Giving another glance to make sure he was still preoccupied, she found herself wondering how quickly a man of his stature would be able to move and whether she was nimble enough to evade his pursuit. Surely, with her smaller frame, she had the advantage.
She shifted slightly, both mentally and physically preparing herself to make her move, when the sight of her own face peering back at her from the television froze her in her tracks. She stared in shock at the screen, paralyzed, terrified at the prospect that he was interested in preserving whatever unspeakable acts he intended to commit.
Gunnar returned the camera to the shelf and made a couple of minor adjustments before his attention drifted back to the woman across the room. He stared at her, for what seemed like an eternity, watching the different emotions play across her face as she tried to process what it all meant. It had been strictly an impulse move on his part, swiping the neatly displayed camera from the top shelf of the office closet during his earlier exploration of the house. He'd had no real purpose in mind, only that it might prove useful at some point during the evening. He found that he was suddenly pleased with his actions, especially in light of all the tempting prospects he'd just envisioned.
Sophie regarded him nervously as he crossed the room, her attention shifting between him and the camera as he slowly circled her, a vicious predator stalking his helpless prey. She eyed him warily as he stepped in view behind her, the extreme variation in their heights accentuated even further from this new and unique vantage point. Reluctantly, she met his gaze through the television, and held her breath as she waited to see what his next move would be.
It seemed to take forever, the tension building to an unbearable level as they stared each other down. Then she saw him raise his hand, and she braced herself for what was to come, even as she warned herself to run for cover. Halfway up, he paused for a moment, then his fingers skimmed along the collar of her robe, sweeping a long lock of her hair to the side and she shivered involuntarily as fingertips brushed lightly against the skin along the base of her neck.
He stepped closer, so close she could actually feel the heat radiating from his body as it warmed her back, melting away the cold tremors that vibrated through her spine.
Make a run for it. This could be your last...
The thought dissolved in mid sentence as lips caressed her neck.
She closed her eyes, cursing silently.
That spot. That damn spot...
The heavy weight of strong hands settled on her shoulders, sliding leisurely down each arm, gliding smoothly over the cool silk. Fine material gave way to the delicate skin of her forearms, his fingers burning along the surface. Startled by the sensation, she stiffened as though to step away, but the same firm hands closed around each wrist, holding her in a gentle restraint. Completely caught off guard, she stared mesmerized at the screen, transfixed at the site of herself caught in his semi-embrace. She felt his hot breath against her neck for a second time, and her pulse quickened, and for one brief moment, she imagined herself melting into his arms, accepting whatever comfort he might have to offer.
This is insane, she thought, pulling herself back to reality. Even with her penchant for having sex with men she barely knew, she had to draw the line somewhere. And the fact that this man was crazy enough to break into her home in the middle of the night and to believe that she had invited him to do so, was enough of a reason for her to keep her distance. Pulling free, she spun around to face him.
"I don't know who the hell you are, but this has gone on long enough. I didn't invite you here. And you're not welcome. It's time for you to leave."
Gunnar stared down at her, a hint of amusement on his face. She could pretend to be offended as much as she liked, but her eyes betrayed her true emotions, no doubt revealing much more than she wanted him to see.
"Not enough excitement for you?" he questioned, leaning in further, his mouth close to her ear. "Or, do you just not like it when someone else is calling the shots?"
Fuming, she took a step back. "I don't know what you think you know about me..."
"I know enough." he interrupted as he side-stepped past her, wandering in a wide circle about the room, surveying the photos and trinkets that adorned the walls and the shelves throughout the space, taking in every detail.
"The spoiled little princess, always used to getting her way. Who doesn't like to take no for an answer."
He turned to face her again.
"Who's so afraid of being hurt, that she's built an entire life for herself where she doesn't have to feel anything at all."
He watched the anger flare in her eyes, fists clenching at her sides.
"You don't know anything about me. About what I've been through." she argued. "And what I do with my life is my business. And I sure as hell don't have to explain it to you!"
Anger overshadowing common sense, she stormed out of the room, too furious to even consider the fact that he'd let her pass him by. She stopped in front of the door and jerked it open.
"Go on. Run away."
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the taunting voice from the next room.
"It's what you do best, right Princess?"
He stepped into view, lingering in the open doorway of the living room as he observed her, although he made no attempt to detain her. Hesitantly, Sophie turned to face him, her knuckles white from the furious grip she still had on the handle of the partially open door.
He'd struck a nerve. And she cursed the fact that she was weak enough to let him see it.
It rattled her, the way he seemed to stare right through her with his piercing gaze, with his ability to read her every thought. She considered his words, knowing how truthful they were, even if she was reluctant to admit it to herself. How was it possible that this frightening stranger could know so much about her? Worse yet, what other secrets did he know that he had yet to reveal?
Her eyes met his, silently seeking answers.
Who was he? And why was he here?
From the kitchen, she could hear the distinct tick of a clock, counting off one agonizing second after another as they continued their silent standoff, neither of them willing to back down. Surprisingly, he was the first to move, never breaking his stare as he stalked slowly toward her, her grip tightening anxiously on the doorknob with each measured step he took. Standing before her, he paused for a moment as he waited to see whether or not she would run. Then he reached past her, taking the door from her grasp and closing it gently, driving the lock home with a definitive click.
She shifted and found her back pressed against the door again, their eyes still locked in a fierce battle. He raised a hand as though to touch her face and this time she avoided him, ducking under his arm and slipping away, although she was certain it was only because he allowed her too. Giving him a lingering glance over her shoulder, she returned to the living room, desperate to put some distance between them.
Never had she met a man like him before. Someone who could manage to arouse so many conflicting emotions at once and in such a short period of time, at that. Fear. Anger. Self-loathing. Desire. She stuttered as the last thought flashed through her mind and she paused in front of the couch as she tried to rein in her wayward thoughts. She needed to stay calm, keep her emotions in check. This was not the moment for her to fall apart. There would be plenty of time for that later on. Or, at least she hoped there would be. Right now, there were more pressing matters for her to contend with.
Having temporarily forgotten about the ongoing surveillance, she started at the sight of herself on the tv screen again, a wave of anticipation coursing through her when she realized that this night was a long way from being over. Nervously, she tugged at the edges of her robe, pulling them closer together, as though the action could somehow make her magically disappear.
"Don't."
She jumped at the sound of his voice, which was surprisingly close. How quietly he moved for a man of his stature.
He reappeared behind her.
"You can lie all you want, Princess. To me. To yourself..."
How was it that he was able to make such an innocent nickname sound so suggestive...
He shifted closer, his voice lowering as he closed the distance between them.
"But you can't fool the camera." He gave the slightest nod in the direction of the screen. "It sees everything as it really is. It doesn't know how to distort the truth. "
She fidgeted anxiously in front of him, the conflicting emotions getting the better of her. She longed to deny his words. To argue that he was wrong. That she was not the person he thought her to be. But it would all be a lie. And he, like the lens, would surely see right through the deception.
His hands materialized behind her, the touch providing an efficient distraction as his fingers trailed a light path across her shoulders, the silk gliding luxuriously over her skin at the contact. She shuddered as his thumb brushed her neck, teasing the sensitive spot of which, by now, she was sure he was fully aware. Then he grew bolder, his hand slipping beneath the silken collar to ease the sections further apart, exposing a wider swath of skin to his view.
Her pulse racing at the intimate contact, Sophie wondered if he could feel the heavy pounding of her heart against his hand as it brushed her chest. He caressed the bare skin, stopping just short of the deep v-neck that now marked the front of the robe, and she squirmed beneath the tantalizing motion as he reversed direction, following the same path upward until his hand covered the delicate curve of her throat. She felt her heart stutter as his thumb stroked the fine line of her jaw, his fingertips measuring the rapid beating of her pulse, the move as erotic as it was threatening. She stared at the image on the screen with a mixture of fear and intrigue, for all it would take was one quick movement, and he could end it all, snapping her neck as though it were nothing more than a fragile twig. It served as a very literal reminder that her life was in his hands and that, at this moment, he was the one who was very firmly in control.
Letting her head fall back to rest on his shoulder, she closed her eyes as she leaned into his solid, well-muscled frame, her stomach churning with a raging storm of emotions.
"So, there's only one question left to ask..."
His voice was low, barely a whisper, his breath hot against her ear.
"What do you really want?"
She couldn't repress the whimper that rose from the back of her throat.
His hand slide from her throat to her cheek, drawing her face up as she turned into him. He kissed her then, his mouth on hers, hot and demanding and whatever reservations she may have had, they all vanished in an instant as her knees went weak, her nails digging into the fabric that covered his biceps in an attempt to keep herself on her feet. He felt her sway against him and he slipped one arm about her waist, pulling her closer, as his remaining hand wound through her hair. Leaning into him for support, she let her own hands wander, sliding further up his arms to cup the strong muscles of his broad shoulders, testing their firmness beneath her desperate grip. After a moment, he pulled back, savoring the quiet moan that she expelled as his teeth nipped her swollen lip, pleased with the rosy warmth that flooded her cheeks.
He did not consider himself to be a patient man, but he readily decided that this moment had very much been worth waiting for.
Her eyes opened, smoldering, seductive and full of desire. He took a moment to appreciate the sight, then took her mouth again, before the thought crossed her mind to protest or worse yet, bring an end to this pleasant interaction.
Sophie felt her muscles liquify, the tension seeping out of every limb as his arm tightened about her waist. As intimidating as it was, she couldn't deny the strange gratification she felt at the thought of surrendering control, the exciting appeal of someone else being in command. Especially when that someone was this man. He felt good, so strong and solid. And so very, very capable.
She felt his muscles flex beneath her fingers, his tall frame bending slightly before he swept her effortlessly off her feet as though she weighed absolutely nothing, his mouth never leaving hers as he covered the short distance to the couch. He lowered her gently, her back sinking into the welcoming softness of the cushions.
Her breath came in harsh pants as their lips finally parted, his large frame perched on the edge of the sofa as he leaned over her. He was doing it again, his eyes probing down through the depths to her very soul, as though trying to read her darkest desires, and as his mouth curved into a slow, wicked grin, she was struck with the thought that this man would have absolutely no problem satisfying even the most carnal of her fantasies.
His left hand pressed into the cushion beside her head as he braced himself over her, he teased her mouth with a series of slow, drawn out kisses, his teeth grazing along her bottom lip each time they parted. He felt her shiver as his free hand caressed the swell of one breast, moving gradually down her side before coming to rest possessively against the curve of her waist. Holding her there in his grasp, he felt all of the hollow frustrations of the past few weeks evaporating with each breathless gasp that escaped her lips, replaced instead with a rising passion as she gave in to the pleasure he offered.
He kissed a path up her jaw, his hot breath warming her ear before he attended to her favorite spot just below it, along her neck. Another soft whimper escaped from her as she arched against him, her hands clinging tightly to his arms. His free hand still explored her body, and he paused for a moment, catching her chin in a gentle grasp as he guided her lips back to his. He cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheek, her jaw, testing her pulse again before moving lower, fingers catching beneath one edge of her robe as he pulled the fabric aside. Instantly, her hand covered his larger one, halting him.
He gave her a moment, before his hand began to move experimentally beneath hers, his thumb teasing the erect nipple through the silky material, creating a delicious friction that left her squirming beneath him. Her hand still covered his, but she did not fight against his ministrations, allowing herself to move with him instead. His mouth shifted to her throat, his tongue delighting the delicate skin, alternating between soft bites and gentle suction and she could do nothing but cling to him, her head spinning and her body aching with a longing she had not felt in ages.
Her chest rose and fell heavily as he pulled back to gaze down at her, and she felt herself shrinking beneath it again, the intensity too much for her to take. His hand grazed over her breast, testing the weight in the palm of his hand before resuming his explorations. Heavy fingers moved across her ribcage, dipping slightly lower, until he found the belt securing her robe. Without taking his eyes from hers, he grasped one end between his fingers and pulled slowly, until the knot slipped loose.
Tension rising, Sophie found herself unable to hold his stare any longer. With a shaky breath, she turned her head, her eyes settling instead on the tv across the room. It was easier to watch him this way, to see how his face darkened with desire as he slid the edges of the robe aside, exposing her to his view.
She held her breath as she watched him dip his head, her eyes fluttering close and her body arching into him instinctively as his mouth closed around one stiff nipple. For the slightest moment, there was a spark of panic when she thought of what was to come, a frantic urge to fight her way free. But it disappeared as quickly as it had materialized, evaporating as the searing heat of his body warmed her own. He held her close as his hands skimmed over her, his hot, torturous mouth following eagerly in their wake.
With what little sanity she had left, Sophie thought again of how crazy this was, how terrified she should be of the predicament that she found herself in. But the fear she should have felt was mysteriously absent, replaced by a barely restrained desire that threatened to consume her. Even when she had finally accepted what was happening to her, what was happening between them, she had expected it to be over with in a maddening rush, hot, heavy and completely reckless. She had not expected this slow, deliberate torture that he had obviously planned for her, the silent expression of his need to bend her to his will, until every ounce of resistance was gone. Until she was his completely, to do with as he pleased.
Abruptly, he released her and she found herself instantly missing his warmth as he pulled away. He shrugged out of the flannel shirt, the t-shirt following shortly thereafter, and Sophie found herself eying his bare chest appreciatively, impressed by the physique that had been hidden beneath the fabric. The sight of the artwork inked into each arm sparked her curiosity, although she couldn't say she was really surprised at the discovery. The look suited him, far better than she could have expected, completing the package.
There was no doubt that she had known her share of bad boys over the years. But if she was honest- and with his heady gaze still testing her, how could she not be- most of them had been nothing more than wanna-be's who talked the talk and dressed the part, with nothing much behind them to back it up . They flaunted questionable tattoos, boasted of their custom bikes or their shiny hot rods, a few of them even throwing in the essential leather jacket just for good measure. Sure, they could shoot off at the mouth, maybe make a big scene, but in the end she doubted any of them had ever experienced anything more than a drunken brawl in the middle of some downtown bar. The thought of any real danger would likely leave them trembling in their boots.
But there was no charade here. This man was the real deal. Rough and dangerous. And if push came to shove, she doubted there was very little, if anything, that would make this big, bad man back down.
As though confirming her suspicions, she spotted the large scar on his chest, directly above his heart. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch it, her fingers skimming over the rough surface as she wondered what could have caused such a dangerous injury and what had happened to the person who had inflicted it.
Remaining still and silent, Gunnar watched her reaction, intrigued by the different emotions that played across her face, surprised by his body's strong response to such a light, and fairly innocent touch. It left him hungry for more, his mind swimming with the thoughts of what she might be capable of, if only she could free herself from her misguided inhibitions.
Coming to the realization that she was actually touching him so intimately, Sophie flicked her eyes to his face, momentarily panicked, unsure if her attention was welcome or even allowed under such mysterious circumstances. Her unspoken question was answered with an equally silent gesture, as his hands moved to his waist to unfasten the button of his jeans. Immediately, she felt desire spiral through the pit of her stomach, every nerve tightening with the anticipation of what was yet to come.
He resumed his slow exploration of her, his hands and mouth caressing her in the most intimate of ways, her body responding to his every touch as though he'd followed the same path a thousand times before. He moved lower, first his hand, then his mouth, finding her warm center and she heard his low groan of approval at the slick heat he found there. As before, he was patient, his movements slow and leisurely, as though he had all the time in world to get her where he wanted her to go. Even through the intense pleasure, her frustrations grew at his show of control, and she wondered how he could possibly be so calm and collected, while she herself felt one short step away from absolute madness.
Then she felt him rise, his body lingering over hers as their eyes met. At some point during his torture, he'd managed to remove the remainder of his clothing, and she felt the impressive length of him, hot and hard, as he eased himself between her thighs. He paused, running the back of his hand down her face, then gripped her chin gently, turning her face toward the screen. Eyes half-lidded and heavy with lust, she watched him enter her, unable to stifle her cry of pleasure as he took complete possession of her.
Once again, she found herself at his mercy, his movements as unhurried as ever, her endurance stretched to unbearable limits. At some point, she realized she was touching him again, her smaller hands grasping at his biceps, at his shoulders, before clawing frantically at his back. This time she didn't shy away, reveling instead at the feel of firm, tense muscle beneath her trembling hands. Somehow she managed to get one leg wrapped around his waist, her hips rising, seeking a steady rhythm as she moved with him.
He could feel the desperation take hold of her, and finally giving in to his own rising passion, he quickened his pace, his control weakening with every thrust. If her moans of pleasure had done anything to excite him, it was nothing compared to the feel of her body tightening around him in preparation of her impending release. She came undone in his arms, her breath faltering momentarily before a strangled sob was torn from her throat, her nails digging painfully tight against his lower back. He followed her over, his own pleasure released with a fierce growl, his body shuddering eagerly against her own.
Breathing heavily, Sophie lay still beneath him, her neck cradled in the crook of one strong arm as the world ceased spinning around her. She could hear his own ragged breath close to her ear, his mouth grazing that wonderful spot along her neck as he nuzzled closer. He exhaled a heavy moan and she tensed when she felt him shift above her, then felt herself move as he flipped them both over, holding her effortlessly with one arm as he did so. Half sprawled out on top of him as he rested on his back, she settled into a more comfortable spot next to him, too exhausted to exert any additional effort.
Her eyes flickered open to gaze up at him, surprised to see that his attention was focused on the tv screen, as he took in the sight of the two of them so intimately entwined. His hand caressed her exposed back in a comforting motion and she shivered as his fingers trailed along her spine, chills popping up along the skin of her arms. Then she felt herself being enfolded in the warmth of the quilt from the back of the couch, and the last the thing saw before she drifted off to sleep was his chin resting against the top of her head, his arm heavy around her waist, as she snuggled deeper into his inviting chest.
XXXXX
Sophie woke with a start, her tired muscles protesting the sudden movement. Opening her eyes, daylight lit the room, and she found herself staring at the television in confusion, slightly disoriented, until she recalled the events from the previous night.
She bolted upright, scanning the room, both surprised and relieved to find that she was alone.
Maybe it was just a dream, she thought, rubbing her head with trembling hands as she tried to quiet the visions that swam through her mind. Then she spotted her robe on the floor beside the couch and she realized she was completely naked beneath the heavy quilt that covered her.
Please tell me I've started sleepwalking in the nude, she mused, although she knew it was a useless argument. The state of her body revealed that something much more strenuous had occurred last night. And it hadn't been a dream.
Wrapping herself in the quilt, she cautiously made a lap through the bottom floor of the house, in the hope of verifying that she really was alone. The office was empty, as was the kitchen, though she was surprised to find that her purse was still in the same spot where she'd left it the previous evening. A quick examination revealed that all the contents where still in tact, including the nearly two hundred dollars in cash she carried in her wallet. Checking her cell phone, she saw the battery was dead and she fished the charger out of her bag and plugged it in, wanting to be prepared, just in case.
She left the kitchen and wandered into the entryway, more memories flooding her mind as she gazed at the door. Everything seemed like such a blur, and it had all happened so fast, she found it hard to separate the real from the imagined.
Eying the upper level of the home suspiciously, Sophie wondered if there was any chance the man had hidden in one of the rooms on the second floor. Although it was a possibility, her gut told her it wasn't true. She doubted that he would take the risk of waiting around the scene of the crime.
Returning to the living room, she dropped the quilt and slipped on her robe, tying the belt tight as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened.
Considering the fact that nothing appeared to be missing and that she was still alive, his intentions had been neither robbery nor murder. So why then had he risked so much by breaking into her house in the first place?
It was you he wanted. You were what he took.
The thought made her feel faint and she sank onto the sofa, her head in her hands as she scolded herself for her actions, remembering how wantonly she had behaved.
You should call the police. Report the incident. Maybe they can help you...
And what was she supposed to tell them? That some strange man had broken into her house and...seduced her?
They would laugh at her. Treat it as a joke. Especially if...
The thought trailed off as she jerked her head up, her eyes falling on the camera beside the tv. Hesitantly, she stood and crossed the room, picking up the equipment with shaky hands. She checked the slot in the back, and she wasn't sure whether to be more relieved or upset to discover that the memory card was still intact. He hadn't taken it with him.
But why? Surely he would have wanted to retain the footage for his future enjoyment. Why would he risk leaving such important evidence behind?
Sophie struggled to piece together the thoughts that were swimming through her mind.
Without a doubt, it was the best evidence she could possibly have. She wouldn't need a physical description when she had photographic proof. This one small square of silicone would show them everything that had happened from the moment they'd walked through the living room door. And it was all right there in the palm of her hand, ready for her to use.
But there was no way she would ever be able to do so.
How could she, after what she had done? How she had acted? They would see it all. And then what would they think of her? They would never take her claim seriously. It would be beyond humiliating. And in the end, there would be no justice. At least, not for her.
In that moment, she made her decision.
She would never tell a single soul about the things that had gone on in this house overnight. No one else would ever know.
Wrapping the cables tightly around the camera, she stalked to her office and opened the closet, shoving it as far back on the top shelf as it would go, making sure it was hidden completely out of her sight.
The thing was done.
He was gone.
And she doubted there was even the slightest chance that she would have to worry about ever seeing him again...
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So, I take your silence regarding this chapter as disapproval. Should I stop here?