Free Crystal Mac: A prologue novella to Captive Series Book 3 HELL'S HILLTOP by J. A. Dennam

open, lingering over the unspoken ultimatum.
    Mmm . Nothing like the promise of desert to weaken his resolve. He felt played, but in a very non-threatening, satisfactory way. This was by far the weirdest sexual adventure he’d ever been on. But if submitting to her will bought him a lasting ticket to boob heaven, why the hell not?
    She repeated, “Now, go like this.”
    Her demonstration almost made him laugh. She was so cute, and her deep look of concentration when she coated his upper lip with shave gel made him want to kiss that curvy mouth.
    In a lingering, exploratory way that would curl her toes.
    When she came at him with the razor, his head reared back, thumped against the wall.
    Her eyes reflected a warning. “Be still.”
    But, his ingrained sense of preservation was making it impossible. “Have you done this before?”
    Impatience was replaced with a sympathetic cringe. “Actually… no. But, I promise, the only reason I’ll draw blood is because you move when you shouldn’t.”
    The razor descended again. Mac looked up at the ceiling as it scraped downward, the sound of severing whiskers throwing static through his head. She worked carefully, cleaning the razor in the cup of water she held beneath his chin, tapping off the excess. Her strokes were short and smooth, like an artist feathering an image onto paper.
    When she was finally done, she rinsed the razor for the last time and beamed in satisfaction. She set the cup down on the floor, grabbed the towel and wiped his face clean with a dry corner. It felt weird, something actually coming in contact with the skin above his mouth. He’d worn that mustache for a long time.
    “You look much better without it,” she said in a soothing tone, as if she knew he already missed it. Her finger came up and traced the small scar below and to the right of his nose. “You weren’t hiding this, were you?”
    Mac had almost forgotten all about it. “Maybe at first,” he admitted.
    “How did you get it?”
    Absently, he touched it himself to remember. “I guess you could say I was shot.”
    Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
    “Com bat pistol training,” he clarified. “A round ricocheted off the target and broke into pieces. The core penetrated my upper lip.”
    Crystal’s eyes widened with the revelation. “So, I was right. You were military.”
    Not that he’d meant to go there, but she’d snuck the subject in under the radar without even knowing it.
    The water was cooled, suds were gone, the time growing closer to sunrise. He leaned in and kissed her slowly. “I can feel your breath on my face now,” he murmured, giving her a small win. “It’s nice. But we should try and get some sleep.”
    A general air of disappointment surrounded her as she moved off his lap. “So much for sharing,” she murmured under her breath.
     

 
     

     
    When Mac closed the door behind him, giving her the privacy she requested, Crystal moved her shoulder and decided the patch job had held through all the activity. As the tub drained, she wrapped the towel around her body, studied the small bathroom.
    Besides the mess they left, there wasn’t much evidence a man used it. Or a woman, for that matter. DJ’s things took up every inch of space. The colorful toys and panda linens added a charm to the dated fixtures that could never be matched by a designer bath in her book.
    Damn. She’d trade anything for this.
    “Crystal?”
    Mac’s voice through the closed door prompted her to look at her reflection in the mirror. She combed fingers through her bangs, slicked them back. “Yeah?”
    “Just checking.”
    Naturally. He didn’t trust that she wouldn’t disappear again, but Crystal had no desire to be anywhere else. Mac Truck had just proved what she’d suspected all along. Beneath the scowl, the barreled chest a nd the master-of-doom façade… he was the key to her survival. The ominous, questionable world outside the basement bedroom she’d lived in for