Free Forster, Suzanne by Blush Page A

table with a clunk. "Fuck that, " he said. "You're my hostage, and I make the rules. Whatever it is you're doing in there, do it where I can see it!"
    His loudness startled her, but it would have taken a bullhorn to stop her. She twisted the offending bone this way and that, aware that it was so badly bent she might never get it back into shape. The grit and sweat on her flushed skin made the material stick to her. Her flesh was being rubbed raw, and she couldn't see what she was doing or get the leverage she needed because she was wearing the thing. God, would she ever get back to civilization and a hot shower?
    "Goddamnit, Gus!"
    "In a minute—" Now she was trying to take the damn bra off so she could work with it, but she couldn't even manage that. The hook seemed to be jammed.
    "Now!" he barked. "Right now!'
    Agust of air swept over her as the coat flew off her head, leaving her exposed. "Give that back!" she cried, her hands frozen at the snap of her bra.
    "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, gaping at her huddled form.
    "I'm trying to get this thing off, if you don't mind."
    "Yeah, I do mind."
    She gazed up at him, uncomprehending, but very aware of the dark glow of his eyes and the steel in his jaw. "Why?"
    "Because if you take it off, you'll be topless."
    His logic still eluded her. "The woman wants to take her bra off, and the man doesn't want her to because she'll be topless? What's wrong with this picture?"
    "I'm not the man, Gus. I'm Mr. Kidnapper, remember?
    Who drives too fast because he's displacing his primitive sexual urges? You don't want to risk triggering one or two of those urges, do you?"
    Blame it on the heat and the sweat and the gouging pain she was in, but Gus didn't give a rat's behind about his urges at that moment. "If you don't want to be triggered, then give me back that coat, " she muttered, resuming her efforts.
    Her more-than-ample breasts shivered with the defiance that stiffened her entire body as she worked. Glistening with perspiration and swollen with heat, they spilled from the cups of the bra like something ripe and soft and golden, fruit of the gods. As she fiddled and fussed with the jammed hook, trying to free herself, she knew very well what it must look like to him... all that wanton female flesh bobbing and jiggling, all that cleavage. At least she hoped it looked that way!
    Being in the modeling business, Gus had been told often that her body was phenomenal. Perhaps she'd even begun to believe it, though she knew much of what was said by photographers and such was unmitigated bull. But now, more than anything, and probably for the simple reason that he'd ordered her not to, Gus Featherstone wanted to flash a pair of phenomenal breasts at this throwback to the cave dwellers.
    "Ahh, that feels better," she said as she finally got the hook undone. An angry red welt marked the underside of her breast as living proof of her discomfort. With a deep sigh of relief, she looked up at him.
    Her smile wavered a little as she saw his expression.
    "Christ, " he breathed, glowering at her partial nudity. "Are you nuts?"
    "No, but I would have been if I'd had to wear that thing a second longer."
    His eyes narrowed to gleaming slits as he stared at her. "Turn around," he commanded.
    "You turn." Gus wasn't quite sure what had him so upset. Considering his reaction, there were only a couple of conclusions she could draw. Either he had the sexual hangups she already suspected, or she herself was woefully out of touch with everyday mores, which was entirely possible, too. She'd long ago overcome any modesty about nudity. Modeling had cured her of that. You couldn't throw clothes on and off in front of dressers and designers and be shy about your body.
    Vaguely aware that both shocking pink bra straps were slipping off her shoulders, Gus couldn't make up her mind which one of them to salvage and the moment of indecision sent them sliding down her arms. The bra cups fell away next, startling her