UndercoverSurrender by Angela Claire Page A

a woman but not wanting to use
it. Which he supposed there probably was.
    “Not exactly.”
    “That’s not an approximate thing as far as I know. You are
or you aren’t.”
    Now that they were alone, she was bolder than he would’ve
thought she’d be under the circumstances. Rich girls apparently didn’t take
much crap, kidnapping or no kidnapping.
    “No, I’m not gay.”
    She hadn’t asked about bi since presumably that wouldn’t
preclude him sleeping with her, but he offered it anyway.
    “I’m not bi either.” He sat on the bed, since he didn’t know
what else to do. “Just plain old, you know, straight, I guess you’d say. But as
I said, I don’t get off on it if a woman is scared of me.”
    “So are you, like, relying on that Stockholm Syndrome thing?
Where I fall in love with my captor? Because that is so not going to happen,
buddy.”
    “Thanks for the warning.”
    “You lay one finger on me and—”
    “What?” He couldn’t have her not playing along, or at least
being scared enough of not playing along as to make it believable. Distasteful
as having her scared of him was, it was better than having her gang-raped and
then probably killed because his cover was blown. “Let’s be clear here. If I
wanted to, you’d be right next to me on this bed, on your back with your legs
in the air in two seconds and there’s nothing you could do to stop me. I’m
sorry. That’s just how it is.”
    She looked a little defeated at the observation. “Okay,” she
conceded. “I get it. You’re bigger than me. You could overpower me. But you
don’t want to.” She didn’t bother to look down at his hard-on that time. They
both knew what she meant.
    “Not with my big head, I don’t. Not under these
circumstances.”
    “So you are trying to convince me you’re a good guy.
Forget it.”
    He bounced up from the bed and crowded her, to put a little
punch into his words. “I couldn’t give a shit what you think of me. I’m just
trying to keep you from getting raped by the rest of the crew here. Okay? Can
we at least agree on that objective?”
    Suddenly, she was holding the tiniest pair of scissors he’d
ever seen up to his throat. “I’d throw in keeping me from getting raped by you as well.”
    He sighed and the pathetic little tip of the clippers
pressed harder against his skin.
    “Don’t move a muscle,” she warned.
    He had to hand it to her. She had guts. Idiotic guts, but
guts.
    “Really?” He asked. “You’re really going to threaten
me with Barbie’s manicuring kit?”
    Shaking his head, he batted the scissors out of the way with
next to no effort. She looked surprised as they dropped to the floor, so light
they didn’t even make a sound on impact, and, after a second, she dove to try
to retrieve them. But he grabbed her arm, hauling her back to her feet. He
shook her a little as she struggled wildly, trying to free herself. “Hey. Stop.
Cut that out.”
    When she wouldn’t listen, he flung her on the bed and
climbed on top of her, easily overpowering her, stretching her arms out above
her. He had to make her see how vulnerable she was so she wouldn’t try a stunt
like that again and most especially not try it with somebody else on this boat.
    “You like this feeling?”
    She continued to struggle and he distributed his weight so
she was rendered completely immobile, her only movement now her heavy panting
as she stared up at him. Her eyes, only inches from his own, conveyed loathing
pretty well and maybe, just maybe, a touch of fear finally.
    He’d have to make this quick, since he doubted she could
breathe too easily in this position. “You like being this helpless? Do you?”
    She shook her head no.
    “’Cause that’s what you are. Helpless. Completely helpless
if you try to pit yourself against me or any one of these guys. That was a
stupid trick and don’t you dare do anything like that again.”
    “Or what?” she spat out.
    Well, now that was a tough one. He supposed