Cartwright Brothers Series

“So, that’s it? I’m a prisoner now?”

“Just until we figure out what to do with you.” The matriarch  waved a hand in my direction, then carried the dog into the other room, leaving me and Nate alone again.

“I can’t believe this.”

“We can’t exactly let you go after what you’ve seen, Holland. I’m sure you understand that.” He actually sounded apologetic.

“I understand that perfectly. What I can’t believe is that a grown man is still living with his mother.”

“That’s what you’re focusing on?” It wasn’t what I was focusing on. Inside, I was freaking out, but humour was my defence mechanism. I could mock anything. I couldn’t help it. “I do have a place of my own. We all do. It’s just easier to stay here when we’re working.”

“Well… good for you, I guess.” I crossed my arms across my middle, not giving a hoot if he was interested in my ‘assets’ or not. I was annoyed that not only had he robbed me twice, but now I was a captive. And what did ‘figure out what to do with me’ mean?

“You’re angry,” he stated.

“Of course I’m angry! You can’t keep us here. We have jobs and family who will notice we’ve gone. Alesha’s father is the most overprotective man on the planet and will go to the ends of the earth to find her, and my aunt will just use the app for the GPS card to find the last-known location. Then she’ll call the cops, and keeping me here won’t have made a single bit of difference.”

He worked his jaw thoughtfully, then pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Abbot?” He paused to listen. “That tracker, put it in an envelope and post it to Guam or something. Also, get Holland’s phone and her clothes. She’s going to need more than a pair of pants with the back torn out.” He listened for a moment, then disconnected.

“What are you planning to do now?”

“Nothing different. I’m still planning on keeping you here. You’re just going to make a few phone calls using those acting skills of yours. You can make everyone believe you’ve gone on an impromptu holiday, can’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m no good. Did ‘Oh, yes! Nate!’ sound believable to you?”

His eyes narrowed as the echo from my fake climax made the high-ceiling entryway even quieter once it stopped.

“On second thought, maybe we should get you to send a text.”

I frowned. “Excuse me?” It was some of my finest acting. I’d go so far as to say I gave Meg Ryan a run for her money.

“Duchess, I’ve heard you come so hard that your voice didn’t even register, felt your juices pour into my mouth while you pulsed under my tongue. Standing here pretending that was all fake is the biggest joke I’ve ever heard, not to mention the worst acting I’ve ever seen.”

My mouth fell open and I really wanted to stomp my foot, but didn’t. “It wasn’t meant to be great acting,” I lied. “It was meant to be an insult. And I do not pour when I come.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he smiled. “Oh yes, you do. You’re a gusher, Holland.”

I gasped, my cheeks heating. “I am not.”

He stepped closer. “You are. And it’s incredibly hot, I get hard every time I think about it.”

My eyes travelled down. Yep, he was hard. My tingly bits tingled. My breathing shallowed. It wasn’t a response I wanted to be having when I was in the midst of a hostage situation, but my body had a mind of its own. Traitor.

Swallowing hard, I forced myself to meet his eyes while jutting my chin out defiantly. “Maybe I have a bladder control problem.” I knew I didn’t have a bladder problem, but as I already mentioned, mocking jokes were my first line of defence. “Maybe I didn’t gush at all. Maybe you drank pee instead.”

His eyes twinkled. His mouth twitched. Then he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

Swiping his thumb across his eye to catch a mirth-filled tear, he finally got control of his bouncing shoulders. “You really are a terrible actor, duchess.”