Nothing But Trouble
Chapter 12

The bed was moving; Sophie was sure of it. She could feel it swaying gently beneath her but was unable to comprehend the reason why. As her eyelids gradually lifted she found herself looking at her own reflection. A small sound of shock escaped her and her eyes widened. She was definitely lying on a bed; stripped down to the white shirt that barely covered her decently; her hair spread out around her as though she was posing for a picture for one of those girlie magazines. Reaching for the hem, she made a halfhearted effort to pull the material further down her naked thighs.

There was a lightweight blanket at her feet she must have kicked aside while she slept. The dimness in the room was provided by a wall lamp by the door not giving off any more light than a candle would. Somewhere close by the sound of a ticking clock broke the otherwise eerie silence. Her brows furrowed with confusion until she became alert enough to realize what she was looking into. It was a mirror on the ceiling directly above the bed. She would have never pegged Brent for that kind of man. Her feelings flip-flopped between shock and worry, and something else. Something wicked and delicious.

Instincts drew her gaze to a corner in the room; the outline of a shadow revealing she wasn’t alone. She found Brent relaxing in a chair, watching her intently. He leaned forward until his features were in the light, and the unexpected concern in his eyes caused butterflies to flutter wildly in her stomach. Am I just imagining the tenderness reflected in his dark gaze? He’d abducted her yet Sophie was beginning to have strong doubts about his motives. He didn’t act the way she thought a kidnapper should. Though she had nothing to compare it to, intuition told her that most of the time she had nothing to fear from him. Not as a kidnaper anyway. As a man, he took her breath away.

“You get your kicks watching women sleep?” He didn’t have to respond, the devilish look in his eyes did his talking for him. “And I see you’re into, ah, kinky s*x.” She shouldn’t have brought attention to the mirror on the ceiling but it was too late now, they both glanced up at their reflections.

Brent laughed, sincerely amused. “You have a lot to learn. A mirror on the ceiling doesn’t imply kinky s*x. Maybe just two people who enjoy watching each other making love.”

His words conjured up a visual Sophie grew uncomfortably warm with. An image of the two of them, naked, entwined in sheets and making love beneath the mirror. Instant heat swept across her cheeks, which caused his smile to grow into a wolf’s grin. It was as if he knew what she was thinking. Or, maybe he was thinking it himself. Sophie knew when a man wanted her, and he’d had that look in his eyes from the moment they’d met at the museum. Jonathan had that look too, only she’d never felt an ounce of desire for him.

“I just purchased the boat six months ago and haven’t had a chance to spend much time on it yet. The mirror is compliments of the last owner, some fifty-six-year-old banker going through a midlife crisis. It’s obvious by his chosen red light district décor that he was a wannabe playboy.” His stare, gleaming with amusement, held hers captive. “At least he was smart enough to keep his bad taste in the bedroom.”

Sophie’s gaze moved about the room, taking in the mirrors and suggestive artwork, and the lighting fixtures designed to keep the atmosphere intimate.

“He even left a generous supply of condoms in the nightstand drawer next to the bed.”

“Why did you buy the boat?” Sophie asked, deciding it was a much safer topic than the subject of condoms.

He shrugged. “My intentions were to take a year off and sail around the world, but things kept getting in the way.”

“Kidnapping…you mean?”

His teeth flashed brightly in the gloom. “You know, I haven’t even slept in this bed…yet.”

Sophie felt a pleasant tingle run down the length of her spine when he ran his gaze over her. He had a lot of nerve, standing there and intimidating her with his sheer presence and that speculative gleam in his eyes. “You took my clothes off.” It took a conscious effort not to look at her appearance in the mirror again.

“Not all of them,” he pointed out, his gaze dropping down the front of her shirt in a lazy sweep.

Sophie reached up to replace it was open. She clutched the ends together over her breasts, unable to stop the flow of arousal in her belly. Then his interest fell to her naked thighs. She glanced away from him, making the mistake of glancing up at the ceiling, which only served to fire her b***d.

“How did I get here?” She hated the fact that her voice trembled, revealing her emotions.

“I carried you.”

Sophie wondered if he had trouble, knowing with her height she wasn’t a lightweight. “I guess I should thank you for not letting me fall into the ocean and drowning.”

“It crossed my mind,” he remarked in a tone she couldn’t identify. He studied her thoughtfully for a moment, the interest reflected in his gaze alarming her with its intensity. “Why are you so afraid of the water?”

That was the last thing she expected him to ask. Why should he care? She lowered her gaze from his, clamping down on her bottom l*p. Her eyes swelled with tears. “I can’t talk about it,” she whispered finally, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“Talking about it might help,” Brent surprised her by saying kindly. Sophie shook her head vigorously, praying he would let it drop. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

She managed a choking laugh. “I’m hungry.” Her teary gaze swung up to his, the double meaning behind her innocent comment obvious to them both. Thank God her growling stomach backed up what she really meant.

His masculine chuckle spread over Sophie like a ray of sunshine, leaving her skin tingling in places. “Unfortunately, our dinner is feeding the fish right now. It went over the side when I dropped it to catch you. I’ll see what I can round up in the galley.”

Sophie clamped down on her l*p to keep from crying out for him to stay. She didn’t want to be left alone. It was easy forgetting where she was when he was there, keeping her mind busy. His large presence made her feel safe and protected. Panic nearly overwhelmed her the closer he moved to the door. He’d told her they weren’t leaving the marina but if he’d changed his mind and they were floating out to sea somewhere right now, she didn’t want to know. She was too chicken to face that possibility.

Escape seemed further away than ever. Brent couldn’t have chosen a better place to ensure she wouldn’t even try. She reluctantly glanced at the small porthole, which was covered with a sheer red curtain. Revealing they weren’t below water level was a small comfort. He opened the door and was gone before Sophie could replace her voice. She didn’t waste any time rolling off the bed once he closed the door behind him. There was no way she was going to be lying there when he returned, like some frightened virgin waiting to be conquered.

She glanced around at her surroundings, noticing two other doors besides the one Brent disappeared through. After snooping around, she discovered one opened up to a tiny closet and the other to a bathroom about the same size. She paused long enough to survey her disheveled appearance in the mirror over the sink, and then reached up to run her fingers through her untamed hair.

Goodness, she hardly recognized herself. There was nothing in her reflection to indicate she was a woman of means. She fingered the hanging threads where the buttons had popped off her shirt, embarrassed to discover the dark outline of her nipples were showing right through the thin material. Maybe Brent hadn’t noticed. She turned on the tap, letting the water run a few seconds before scooping some in her palms, then running it over her tear-streaked face and burning eyes. All too soon a noise from the outer room told her Brent had returned.

She emerged from the bathroom hoping she looked more composed.

Her gaze fell briefly to the tray in his hands. “I suppose this is to be my new prison?” She didn’t take her stare off him as he walked across the room, her mouth watering over the delicious aroma reaching her nose.

Brent didn’t look at her until he made his way to the small table beneath the porthole. “For the time being.” He set the tray down.

“And how long is that? How long before you get the ransom money?” Sophie slapped her hands on her h**s in an unconscious challenge.

“I see your spunk has returned.” He turned her way after straightening up. His gaze dropped to the front of her shirt, narrowing.

Sophie tried to ignore the gleam of interest in his eyes. “I’ll give you the money myself if you’ll let me go. I have plenty.” When a tick appeared in his jaw and his stare didn’t waver she glanced down, fully prepared to see the faint outline of her nipples through the material. What she saw was far more damaging, and revealing. The front of her shirt was wet in places; plastered against her breasts as if it’d been glued there. Her nipples were clearly visible through the material, as well as the rounded shape of her breasts. She gasped sharply and reached up to pluck the material away.

With growing panic Sophie glanced back at Brent but his expression hadn’t changed. Maybe he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open or something, because he didn’t so much as blink.

Then, as if in slow motion, his lazy gaze swept up to meet hers. What she saw there caused her whole body to come to life.

“You’re too late.” His voice was low and sexy, filling Sophie’s b***d with fire. “Is this a new trick to get me to let down my guard?”

Acute embarrassment coupled with the feeling of helplessness ruled the biting response on her tongue. That and the need to deny the feelings he roused in her. “I’m glad one of us replaces this amusing. But then, you’re not the one being terrorized…”

“Terrorized!” He burst out laughing; the deep, rich sound flowing over Sophie in a sensual caress that caused her breath to catch with sharp awareness, even as it choked her with annoyance.

“Yes!” she insisted.

“You’ve been treated like a princess compared to most kidnap victims.” His arms made a sweep of the food.

“That’s not just bread and water on your plate,” he said in reference to the steamed vegetables and seared salmon.

Eyebrows arching, Sophie went on recklessly, “I’ve been attacked…”

Eyes brimming with a mixture of desire and humor, Brent’s gaze moved over her again, this time inspecting her for a different reason. “Were you hurt?”

Crossing her arms, her chin rose stubbornly. “I’m being shuffled around from place to place…”

Brent crossed his arms. “It’s better than being buried alive in a wooden box with a jug of water and an air tube to keep you company.”

Sophie was going to wipe that smug grin off his face if it killed her. “I’ve been stripped and, and, manhandled. You practically forced yourself on me.”

The grin on Brent’s face slowly faded as the laughter in his hooded eyes disappeared, leaving a lazy, seductive look in its place. Unexpectedly leaving her hot and weak at the knees.

Sophie realized her mistake the minute the words passed through her lips. She wasn’t in the habit of letting her tongue run away with her, but lately she was becoming a pro at it.

“Manhandled?” he repeated softly. “That sounds like a serious complaint.”

“Yes,” she insisted, unconsciously adding fuel to the fire. She didn’t like the expression crossing his face, as though he was contemplating something. Maybe now was a good time to change the subject. After all, what do I really know about him? Other then his k****s turned her inside out.

He was right, damn him, he’d treated her much better than any kidnap victim had a right to expect. The things he’d done had been out of necessity, hardly causing her more than a few embarrassing moments. If she’d left well enough alone, they’d still be back in his cozy apartment, waiting for Jonathan to pay the ransom.

She took a nervous step backward. “I’m sorry; I don’t usually let my tongue run away like that.”

The unyielding look in his eyes revealed her apology fell on deaf ears. Her glances darted around the small room looking for an avenue of escape, replaceing none that didn’t include going topside. For a moment she weighed what she thought was the lesser evil. By the time she made her mind up to duck into the bathroom and lock the door it was too late. Brent closed the distance between them with blinding speed.

“You’re not very smart, princess. There are rules to this little game,” he surprised her by saying.

“Ru-Rules?” she stammered with rounded eyes. Her pulse leapt at his nearness, which had nothing to do with being afraid.

Brent nodded slowly. “Rule number one, the kidnapper calls the shots. Whether that insults your delicate sensibilities or not doesn’t matter. What he says goes, period.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“Rule number two, the kidnapper has the right to stuff a sock in your mouth and keep you tied to the bed if you prove difficult.”

Her eyes widened even more. “But…”

“And rule number three, never insinuate that a kidnapper is lacking, in any area. You sound disappointed that all I’ve done so far is steal a couple k****s.”

“Not hardly,” she responded, her tone not sounding very convincing. She tried to step away but there was nowhere to go, since his body trapped her against the bed. “Please…” The air between them became electrically charged.

“Please?” he whispered huskily, his eyes falling to her mouth.

Sophie wasn’t sure what she was asking for, only knowing his nearness caused a fire to erupt inside her belly. When he looked at her like he was now, she couldn’t think past the sensuous warmth in his eyes or the desire etched his strong, hard face. Her lips parted beneath his visual caress, unexpected desire licking through her body. She tried to deny the warmth suddenly pooling between her thighs; thankful he couldn’t possibly know how her body was responding to him. Praying he didn’t guess. She couldn’t understand it herself.

Except that he radiated a vitality that drew her like a magnet.

He moved as if in slow motion, curling his arm around her waist and hauling her to him until she was flush against his aroused body. “Please?” he repeated in a soft growl, slowly lowering his head. “That sounds like an invitation, princess.”

Hands automatically moving between them, Sophie was torn between pushing him away and curling her nails into his shirt to pull him closer. “What are you going to do?” she whispered, leaning back so she could look into his eyes.

Brent grinned and Sophie realized her mistake at once. His body was taut and throbbing with strong arousal. She caught her breath, meeting his gaze. His gaze made a slow-moving sweep over her face. There was no disguising the subtle changes that indicated his excitement. His erratic breathing through slightly flared nostrils, the dilated pupils of his darkening eyes.

She could even feel the fierce pounding of his heart beat. His body was like a live wire against her, the current strong and steady. Binding. At that point she wanted him more than she needed to breathe. Yet part of her struggled not to succumb to weakness.

Because this time she sensed Brent wasn’t going to stop with a k**s.