Capturing the Bride (The Kidnap Club Book 1) by Samantha Holt

Author:Samantha Holt [Holt, Samantha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Helstone Press
Published: 2020-04-06T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

“I unlocked my door.”

Nash turned to find Grace in his bedroom doorway. He cursed silently. Two days and he had managed to resist kissing her again. But it had been damned hard.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she said as she shut the door behind her and turned to face him one more time.

“Always a dangerous thing,” he murmured.

“Well, because I have been kidnapped people will make certain assumptions about me.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The chances are, a young woman snatched by men would be, well, taken advantage of.”

He let his scowl deepen.

“They will be ruined, Nash,” she explained as though he was slow indeed.

Which he was feeling right now. Everything felt slow—his breaths, his movements. His ability to kick her out of his bedroom and away from danger.

“So?”

“So, it is clear to me, after some thought, that we are both feeling some sort of a reaction between us. For some reason, biology wants us to procreate.”

He nearly choked on his breath. “Biology?”

“It means the science of life.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of it before,” he muttered. “But procreation?”

“Nash, I have little desire for a child.”

“Then what…”

“Well, seeing as I will be ruined anyway it seems logical that I fornicate with you.”

He stared at her for a few moments, taking in the utterly sensible expression to the innocently laced hands in front of her. Was he dreaming?

“Nash?” she prompted.

“What did you say again?”

“I wish to—how do you say it—bed you.”

He swept a hand through his hair. “Good Lord.”

“I am fairly certain you would not be averse to it.”

He laughed dryly. That was an understatement. “Grace, you are an innocent and I—”

“I expect nothing from you,” she said quickly, “apart from your expertise in the, um, fornication department.”

“Dear God, please cease saying fornication.”

“Sex then?”

Either way, it wasn’t good. She offered herself up on a platter and he had little control in him to deny her.

Her throat worked and she reached behind her then turned slightly, peering at him over her shoulder. “Will you help me with the laces?”

He moved with leaden feet, unable to resist but knowing he intended to break the only firm promise he’d ever made.

“Stop,” she said softly.

He halted, clenched his jaw. He stared at the laces in his hands. She twirled around to face him, and he let the laces fall from his grasp. Her fingers grazed across his jaw, drawing his gaze to hers. The milky expanse of one shoulder was just visible and his gaze darted down, drawn to the enchanting sight of bare skin.

Nash’s hand shot out before he had even realized what he was doing and he let it linger above her shoulder, the desire to touch her making his skin itch. The heat of her skin seemed to penetrate the gap and his hand shook with restraint.

He had hated his father for breaking his vow to him. Was he really going to do the same?

“Have you…that is, do you not wish to touch me?”

He snapped his gaze to hers and noticed a hint of vulnerability dancing in her expression.

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