Free The Chase by Lauren Hawkeye

boys.” Adam grins, leaning back in the chair, placing his feet on the bed. I cock my head, listening for the insult in his words but...
    If I’m not mistaken, me stuffing my face is entertaining him.
    “I have a fast metabolism.” I throw a fry at him, which he catches with his mouth. A giggle escapes before I can stop it.
    Why does he have to be so damn interesting?
    “Must make you the envy of every girl at Miss Black’s, being able to eat like that and look the way you do.” His eyes rake over me thoughtfully as he munches on the fry, licks salt from his lips, and slowly I push away the plate, one appetite replaced by another.
    Reaching for my glass of orange juice, I gulp, trying to cool myself off. It’s one of Adam’s most appealing and irritating traits, his ability to make me feel all hot and bothered on the turn of a dime.
    When I set down my now empty glass, I realize he’s waiting for a response to his non-question.
    “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met any of the other girls.” I choose my words carefully. “And the metabolism is great, except when you don’t have enough to eat.”
    Shit. That last bit slipped out without my meaning it to. I open my mouth to change the subject, but Adam has grasped onto that tidbit of information like he’s drowning and I’ve thrown him a lifeline.
    “Tell me about yourself.” He looks casual, slouched there like he is, but the intentness in his stare tells me he’s anything but.
    He’s interested. I know he is, past dating history be damned. But he’s also straight out told me that he kidnapped me because I don’t react to him like most people, a novelty that could wear out any moment now.
    This reins in my desire to leap into his arms and give him everything I’ve got.
    “It’s against the rules.” Needing something to do, I climb off the couch and start gathering the plates and other debris from our feast. “You shouldn’t even know my name.”
    “I could make one phone call and find out everything, right down to the hospital you were born in and the date you got your first bra.” His words make my nails dig into my palms hard enough to leave marks, and I glare at him, infuriated.
    “Why don’t you just do it, then?” My words are far bolder than I feel. I don’t want him to know about how I grew up... don’t want to be on the receiving end of those pitying eyes.
    Adam smirks, calling my bluff. “Cause it’s not worth shit unless you give it to me because you want to.”
    For some reason, those words shoot straight to the erogenous zones of my body, making my pulse quicken.
    “Let’s play a game.” Adam is pure sin as he shifts position, his body orienting to mine as I stand, then move around the room. “You ask a question, I ask a question. Rinse and repeat. You first.”
    I narrow my eyes, considering. I take my time, piling all the dirty dishes on the room service tray and tucking it outside the door, then returning to sit on the edge of the bed.
    “What does that tattoo mean?” I gesture to the bold black Latin phrase that decorates his right front arm. I’m mildly curious but could live without knowing, but hope that if I keep the questions fairly superficial, he’ll do the same.
    He glances at the tattoo in question, his fist tightening. The tightly muscled cords in his forearm bunch and release, beautiful in their uncontrolled response.
    I’m startled when he breezes right over the question, instead asking his. “What’s your bra size?” His gaze lingers on the breasts in question, causing the nipples to bunch tightly and rub against the lace of my bra.
    “I’m not answering that! Not until you answer my question! Those are the rules; you said so!” I place my fists on my hips, indignant.
    Adam grins, cocky. “I said those were the rules, kitten, but I never said we both had to follow them.”
    “I’m not answering, then.” The rat bastard. I ask the next question that pops into my mind. “Did you really get felt