Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Why is that?” I ask, curiously.
Rage sighs. “Because, if I know Smoke, you have a lot less time than you think.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
You have a lot less time than you think.
I’m on my knees, fishing under the mattress for the garments I’ve hidden while Rage’s words play over and over again in my mind. She wouldn’t tell me why she thought I had less time, but whatever the reason, it’s time to try out Dr. Ida’s last tip for surviving captivity.
Seduction.
Smoke wants me. I saw it in his eyes. I felt it against my back.
It’s all I have to work with. A hope. A feeling.
Smoke was only gone for a few hours. Rage left shortly after Smoke came back. He hasn’t spoken a word to me since. He’s colder than before. If Rage was right and Smoke named the bacon, then maybe, he’s trying to place distance between us. Or maybe, it’s simpler than that and he doesn’t want to be around me.
I’m nervous, shaking all over as I take a shower and scrub my skin with a washcloth until it’s smooth. I towel dry and brush my hair, then shave and groom using the electric razor I find under the sink. I dress quickly and look in the mirror, adjusting where necessary.
My pulse is pounding in my ears as I give myself a once over. It’s only been three days since I jumped from the car, but I’ve always been a fast healer. My bruises have mostly faded except for the scrapes on my right arm, which are scabbed over.
It’s the best I can do with what I’ve got.
But will it be enough?
I take a deep breath and push open the bedroom door. I find Smoke sitting on the couch with his arms stretched over the top, a cigar in his mouth. A bottle of whiskey at his feet. He looks deep in thought. His legs spread. His arms resting across the back of the couch.
There’s a radio in the corner playing “Take it Out on Me” by Florida Georgia Line.
“I like this song,” I say to get Smoke’s attention.
Smoke turns his head toward me and freezes, cigar halfway to his full lips. His eyes widen as he takes me in, looking me up and down.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He asks between gritted teeth. He’s angry. His vein pulses under his neck tattoo. His nostrils flare.
I let his anger fuel my determination, and I walk with as much confidence as I can muster into the center of the room wearing only a sheer black bra that pushes my breasts up and amplifies my cleavage, along with a matching pair of sheer panties, leaving nothing to the imagination.
“What?” I ask, feigning innocence. I look down at my body. “You don’t like the way I look?” I’m teasing him, or at least I’m trying to. The fire blazing in his eyes tells me that I’m either doing it very right or very wrong. It doesn’t matter. I can’t give up now.
I sway my hips from side to side, hooking my thumbs in the sides of my panties.
“What are you trying to prove, hellion?” Smoke rasps. His pupils dilate.
“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I say, leaning over I pluck the cigar from his hand and take a puff before placing it in the ashtray on the end table.
Smoke clears his throat and shakes his head. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing,” he grates. His eyes linger on the scrap of fabric between my legs then travel up to my breasts where my nipples pebble under his gaze.
“I think I do,” I say in the seductive tone I’d practiced in the bathroom earlier.
“Such big words for such a little girl,” Smoke drawls.
“I’m not a little girl!” I shout, taking a step forward, before reminding myself of what I was trying to do and freezing.
Smoke smiles, knowing he’s gotten to me. “What exactly are you playing at here, little girl? ‘Cause no matter what happens,” he grabs the whiskey off the floor and tips it to his mouth. He swallows and sets it back down, licking his lips. “You’re gonna lose.”
That’s what you think.
I don’t answer. Because I’m focused on his full lips. The way his tongue darts out to catch a falling drop of whiskey.
Shit, get it together, Frankie.
“You might be twenty-two, but all I see is innocence. You ever been fucked before, hellion? ‘Cause, I’m betting on no.”
“Does it matter?” I ask, running my fingers across my breasts.
My heart is pounding so hard it shakes me the way hard-hitting bass rattles a trunk. I never pictured my first time. There were never enough minutes in the day for myself, never mind for fantasies or daydreams. Even if I had pictured it, attempting to seduce my kidnapper while quaking like the floor beneath me is shifting would probably not have come to mind.