Free UndercoverSurrender by Angela Claire

“Just let me kiss
you.”
    And she did, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders.
     
    Was this how Stockholm Syndrome, or whatever the hell it was
called, got started? With wild intoxicating kisses and promises not to go any
further? Was that how the captor managed to lure the captive in? Because if it
was, this guy was very, very good at it.
    By the time he lifted his head and smoothed her hair back
from her face, she had forgotten where she was and who she was. More incredible
still, she had forgotten who he was. A very dangerous thing indeed.
    “That’s better,” he said.
    “Why are you doing this?”
    “It’s not important for you to know why I’m doing this. Just
that I’m the only chance you have on this boat. As long as you believe that,
you’ll get out of this.”
    “Are you banking on getting some kind of reward from my
father, on top of the ransom or something?”
    He came at her again. Suddenly, he was back kissing her and
she was back letting him. His thumbs caressed the hollows of her cheeks as his
tongue explored and his hips leaned into her so she could feel his erection
against her stomach. In a good way.
    When he pulled back this time, he whispered, “Stop trying to
figure it out. You can’t. Just go with it.”
    His kisses on her neck, her throat, made her shiver. What
was that thing he was doing with his tongue? What… She got hold of herself,
just barely, and pushed against him. “Why are you doing this?”
    “Kissing you? I told you why.”
    “No, not kissing me. I mean not, er…”
    “Not fucking you?”
    She nodded briskly and he sighed, pulling back, bracketing
his forearms on the wall behind her so that he kept her in his little cocoon,
but wasn’t touching her otherwise. “Invent any backstory you want,” he said.
“Maybe my mother was raped a long time ago, or my sister and there was nothing
I could do about it. So I’m helping you now.”
    “Is that why? Really?”
    He set his lips to her temple. “What does it matter?”
    “It matters to me,” she whispered.
    “Okay. Yes then.”
    “How do I know you’re not just making that up?”
    “You don’t. I make a lot of things up.”
    He cupped her chin and leaned down to kiss her again. And
idiot that she was, she let him, not that she could have really stopped him
anyway. She wanted to forget, to feel good again, to feel like herself, the
empty-headed pampered girl she was, just for a minute.
    “Hmm,” he said against her lips, pulling back after a
moment. “Now you look like you should.”
    And with that, she promptly burst out into tears.

Chapter Three
     
    Vik didn’t have much experience with women crying. Well,
none actually. And he wasn’t interested in getting any.
    He wondered if it was safe to leave her alone just yet. She
could lock the door behind him. The rest of the crew seemed to accept his
possession and she seemed to be less intent on flinging herself overboard.
    Or she had until now, until these endless sobs that racked
her delicate shoulders. At least she was being quiet about it.
    “Christ.” He stomped into the bathroom, not sure what he was
looking for, but settling on a washcloth which he held underneath the tap until
it was soaked through and then brought out to her like some sacrificial
offering. “Here.”
    She took the cloth and sopped her face, taking deep breaths
as she fairly sagged back against the wall.
    “Better?” he finally said.
    She nodded, straightening.
    “In the spirit of coaching you on how to get through this,
I’m just going to have to mention that giving in to a crying jag right after we
make out is not going to be very convincing on this ‘you’re my babe’ thing.”
    She nodded. “Yes. I know. I understand.” Another deep
breath. “I’m fine now.”
    “If they think I’m just raping you nonstop, these animals
will want to join in the fun.”
    Her full pink bottom lip trembled.
    “I’m not saying that to upset you. I just think the best
hand we can