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Now that I’ve taken her, I’m never letting her go.

Taking Olivia hadn’t been my plan. I’d been prepping my cabin in the woods for my own getaway.

I’m an ex-SEAL, but my instincts are still strong. One glimpse of her innocent, terrified eyes and I know I need to save her. I’d been working with the bad buys, but all it takes is one look at Olivia and I’m back playing the hero, rescuing the damsel in distress.

Now we’re in my remote cabin, hidden away from the world. My little curvy virgin is looking up at me with a mix of innocence, fear, and desire.

The need to possess is burning through my veins. She thinks she needs to escape.

She’s not going to escape.

She’s going to be mine.

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The sound of wood getting chopped and split draws me around to the side of the house. Knox is standing there with an axe, a chopping block and a pile of wood, looking like a poster for All That Is Man. He’s in a T-shirt while I stand there shivering under a blanket. Swat plasters it to his incredible muscles. He’s all hard everywhere I’m soft. I’ve never ben much of an athlete, never on any teams. Cooking and baking are my sports, and they tend to bring out my curves. He’s the exact opposite.

He looks up, wiping the sweat from his brow across his powerful forearm.

“Do you have my phone?” I venture to ask.

He shakes his head no, resting a hand on the blunt end of the axe handle. “GPS tracking. Had to get rid of it.”

“You got rid of it?”

He nods. I sigh in frustration. All around me loom tall trees and the ground’s covered with thick underbrush. Nothing in the vast wilderness remotely resembles a path.

He confirms my suspicions. “We’re the only cabin for ten miles in any direction. No people, just wolves, pumas and black bears.”

“Nice.” Great mobster hangout he has here. Wait, aren’t Chicago mobsters big on city stuff, like living and playing in the city where they work? “Why do you have a cabin all the way out here if you work for the mob?”

He exhales heavy, like I’ve asked him a question with a complicated answer. But he doesn’t give one. He doesn’t say a thing.

Studying his features, I try to read him because, really, who the hell is this man? He saves me, but kidnaps me. He ties me up, but tells me it’s to keep me safe. He touches me, but only after I’ve practically humped him first.

I look away, frustrated. I can’t read him at all, and it’s not just because the sunlight gleaming on his massive biceps is more than a little distracting. The man has a poker face.

“If you work for the mob,” I try again, “why did you take me away from some other mob guys?”

He scratches his temple, then admits, “I didn’t like what they had planned.”

“So you weren’t part of the plan to drug and kidnap me?”

“Not exactly.”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“To keep you safe.”

Callie Harper writes hot, fun page-turning romances. She is powered by coffee, wickedly sexy bad boys, and all things funny, intentional or otherwise. Born on the East Coast where she learned the joys of fast-paced sarcastic banter, she and her family are now kickin’ it in the West Coast sunshine. On any given day there’s a good chance you’ll find Callie outdoors enjoying the gorgeous Bay Area, but if she’s indoors, she’ll likely be reading, writing or eating, preferably all at once.

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