Hot for His Hostage by Angel Payne Page B

wasn’t something her senses, perhaps even her soul, could take.
    She almost laughed aloud. There was a term for this kind of thinking. Topping from the bottom. If the man could hear all this buzzing in her synapses, would he still believe she
     was a natural for this “subbie” stuff?
    He interrupted her thoughts by sliding a finger back down to her chin and nudging
     her gaze up once more. “Where you going, baby girl?”
    Zoe blinked slowly. Clearly, his charge referred to emotional, not physical, distance.
     “N-nowhere. Don’t gawk; it’s the truth. Honestly, I just—”
    “Just answer my question, beautiful. It wasn’t rhetorical. How big is that mental
     research paper of yours now?”
    Mierda. Connection or not, he wasn’t going to make this easy. With the arrogance in his stare
     and the expectant angles of his brows, impossible only began to describe his persistence.
    “Fine,” she snapped. “You really want to know? I do have a ‘list.’ A big one. And contrary to what you may assume, I didn’t just pull
     it out of my ass.” She yanked her face away from his grip. “Were you not listening earlier? I’m not some starry-eyed girl who’s only read about D/s in romance
     novels. I had a man in my life who cared enough to try it with me. I failed him.”
     She shook her head, hating the way his eyes tightened and his jaw clenched. “So stop
     it,” she seethed. “Just stop it with your brooding stare and your continuing mission
     to dissect me, okay? I don’t want or need your damn Dommy pity.”
    His features widened. “‘Dommy pity?’ Is that where you think I’m going?”
    “It’s laser-etched in your eyes, Burnett. You think I’ve been ‘misled,’ maybe even
     abused. You want to paint yourself as my he-man hero—and you’re so cute about it,
     I wish I could grant you the wish—but the truth is, I don’t need one. I’m not a helpless
     damsel, nor have I been anybody’s victim.” When his expression didn’t waver from its
     skepticism, she exploded, “It’s the truth! It’s my truth. You need to accept it, okay?” Dios , his diligence was maddening. “You need to just be happy with it. Sir .”
    The word spewed out of her as accusation instead of respect, a mistake realized much
     too late. Tension washed over him like storm clouds on a mountain range.
    Not just tension. She’d hurt him. He took this seriously. Took her seriously. It was already clear that he took the role of Dominant as an honor to
     be accountable for, not an excuse for commanding a woman into sexual favors. That
     alone earned him more awareness, arousal, and respect from her than Bryce ever had.
    And echoed one set of words through her mind as his tight silence stretched on.
    Ohhhh, shit .
    Her dread grew as he grabbed her shoulders then drew her to her feet. The refrain
     continued as he slowly pulled her close, reminding her even more of the growing electrical
     storm between them. When would his thunder break loose? His lightning? Her breath
     hitched, her senses sizzling with consciousness. Every inch of his body was equally
     taut, hard, commanding.
    “Zoe. Look at me.”
    His voice, soft as wind but strong as rain, pulled her head up. His golden gaze waited
     for her, its ferocity barely leashed. What was he thinking? What did he plan to do
     with her?
    Damn. Damn. Damn.
    She was scared. Really scared.
    And had never been more aroused in her whole life.
    Her whole body confirmed the conflict. Her shoulders burned where he still held her,
     though now the heat radiated down her arms, across her chest, sending merciless stabs
     into the tips of her nipples. The center of her belly, awakened from the edict of
     his huge erection, curled with anticipation. Her thighs clenched against the muscled
     ropes of his, sending wonderful tingles to the tips of her toes.
    “I’m sorry,” she finally rasped.
    His stare, fascinating as smoked copper, dipped to the lip she nervously bit. “Why?”
    She