Hard to Hold by Karen Foley Page B

the urge to slide her hands along the contours of his chest and the undersides of his arms, to fit her hips against his and lean forward until her breasts brushed his chest.
    She couldn’t look at him as she slid her hand into his pocket, searching for the keys. The hard length of his arousal was evident beneath the denim fabric of his jeans.
    “If you’re trying to get into my pants, I’m more than happy to oblige.” His voice was slow and his words slightly slurred. He made a movement to help her, but was halted by the handcuffs.
    “What the—?” He twisted his head and stared in bemusement at his shackled wrists.
    Damn. The first pocket was empty. Maddie switched her attention to the other side. Colton jerked at the cuffs, twisting his body sideways in an attempt to wrest his hands free.
    “Please, Colton,” Maddie begged, struggling to stay seated on his lean body. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”
    He stopped long enough to fix her with a hard glare, his dark eyes beginning to focus with awareness of what she was doing. “Don’t do this, Madeleine.” His voice sounded rough, still groggy with sleep. “Uncuff me right this damned minute.”
    Maddie bit her lip, then swiftly shoved her hand into his other pocket. Colton gave a roar and bucked his hips in an attempt to unseat her. With a cry of alarm, Maddie found herself pitched onto the floor. She scrambled away from the sofa, watching in horror as Colton’s violent struggles lifted the piece of furniture clear off the floor.
    “It’s no use, Colton,” she gasped, and opened her hand to reveal the set of keys. “I already have them.”
    If anything, his struggles became more enraged. Maddie pushed herself to her feet, intent on grabbing her shoes and getting out of there.
    “Madeleine,” he said, his voice harsh and his eyes burning into hers. “You can’t run forever, and there’s no place for you to hide. I’ll get free, and God help me, I will find you.”
    Maddie paused. He had stopped thrashing, and the fierceness of his gaze almost made her believe him.
    “Then I guess I’ll be taking this,” she said, and bent down to retrieve the gun from his duffel bag. She tried to hold it with a modicum of confidence, but was so repulsed by the cold slickness of it that she might as well have been holding a snake. “Don’t try to stop me, Colton. Don’t come after me, or you’ll force me to do something I’ll regret. Just let me go.”
    “Damn it, Madeleine!” It was obvious that he was struggling to harness his rampant temper. “Please. Just listen to me for a minute. I can help you. But don’t do this. Don’t go out there by yourself. Stay here, just until morning. We can figure this out together.”
    She couldn’t stay.
    She had to get out of there and fast. He was doing it again; using that compelling voice to cement her feet where she stood, listening to him despite her determination not to. If that wasn’t enough, the sight of him lying on the sofa with both arms handcuffed over his head was almost too enticing to resist. For one brief, wild instant, her imagination surged. How long would he resist if she decided to take advantage of his position? She wondered how much longer she could resist the temptation to find out.
    “I—I’m sorry, Colton. I have to go.” She shoved her feet into her shoes and all but ran toward the door, determined not to look at him. With her hand on the broken latch, she paused. “I left the keys to the handcuffs in your duffel bag. I just want to say thanks for everything. I’m sorry, too, that we couldn’t have met under different circumstances.”
    Before he could say anything to make her change her mind, she bolted out of the cabin and pulled the door closed behind her. But as she sprinted toward his truck, she heard his bellow of rage and shivered.
    He was right.
    She could run, but he’d find her. She only hoped when he did, it wouldn’t be too late.

4
    C OLTON LISTENED TO his pickup truck