Manhattan Master (6 page)

Surreptitiously I tugged at my hands.
There seemed to be a tiny bit of slack.

"That makes you the worst kind of
liar," he went on. "The kind who lies for no reason. Why would you
change this beautiful face? To make it thinner? Like that fake
weight on your driver's license?"

A welcome burst of anger finally
flooded my body, drowning the horror he was carving into me a word
at a time.

"If you're going to do something awful
to me, then just do it," I snapped. "But stop playing with me. I'm
not interested in your sick games."

"Another lie," he said. "You love my
games, sick or not. And you know what, Eva? I don't need to do
awful things to you. You do a good fucking job of that on your
own."

I dropped my eyes from that
almost-perfect face to his broad chest. It only gave me a renewed
sense of his body, muscular and hard. His few online words about
that came back to me.

"I don't have time for a
gym. I work hard, and that keeps me in good shape. I like being
outside too, and fuck sunscreen. The body adapts."

The irony. He'd been honest about his
looks, but I'd lied at every turn. He conveniently forgot to
mention being a stalker.

Too bad there was no checkbox for that
in an online profile.

His finger was under my chin, tilting
my face upward to his gaze.

"Don't look away from me again, or
I'll strip you all the way down. Is that what you want?"

I shook my head until my hair was a
storm around my face.

His gaze was hypnotic as he took
inventory of me, starting with the wild snarl of my hair on the
pillows. His hands cupped my face, touching as though seeing me
through his fingers.

When his eyes started lower, I froze
again. The greatest part of my façade was about to be examined in
all its fleshy glory.

Embarrassment twisted inside of
me.

He broke into your house.
He drugged you. He's probably going rape, kill, and eat you, not
necessarily in that order. And you're worried about being
overweight?

Holy shit. You're crazier
than he is.

Probably, but there it was anyway. Raw
truth coughed up from deep inside of me. I was terrified not
because of what he would do, but because of what he would
see.

My skin was pale, scattered with
freckles. It was nowhere close to the golden tan I'd described in
glorious, phony detail.

The body under that skin was round and
soft. There was no sign of the gym addiction that I'd pretended to
have. The Braves shirt and sensible panties clung to every
oversized curve.

If he decided to torture me with
stretching, I'd break in half before reaching the five-foot-nine
I'd claimed to be.

How airily I'd tapped out all those
lies.

No skyscraper heels for
me! My legs are already long and lean enough. Skirts are always too
short, but no one complains.

Every extra pound – and there were
plenty of them – mocked my pretended passion for running and
volleyball. All the lies of being a sporty girl. The truth about
being an excellent swimmer didn't deserve much credit. It was
pretty easy for me.

After all, fat floats.

I swallowed hard, watching his face as
his eyes moved over me. Already I could tell that nothing got past
that gaze.

My eyes begged me to let them close,
but his threat had found its mark. The shirt and panties weren't
much, but right now they were the only game in town.

Part of me wished he'd say something.
Part of me dreaded what it might be.

He finished his slow assessment before
he looked into my face again, seeming to search for something. When
his eyes took on a new gleam, it seemed as though he'd found
it.

He leaned in again, nuzzling against
the side of my neck, inhaling deeply. His scent curled around me
like a living thing.

"Not the smell on the panties, but in
the same neighborhood. I need to be sure about a couple of things
before we proceed."

He pulled away from me, reaching again
for the black nylon bag.

"Get the hell out of here," I said.
"I'll scream if you don't. There are seven other units in this
building. My neighbors –"

" – have no part in this. This is
between you and me."

I screamed anyway, shrieking until my
voice cracked in my throat. It didn't free my hands, but it might
be enough for someone to call the police.

His smile held approval.

"You didn't take my word for it. Good.
I could have been lying. You'll realize soon that I lie only if
there's no other choice."

"Yeah. I can tell you're a man of deep
integrity," I said mockingly. Probably a bad idea, but his calm
arrogance enraged me in spite of my fear.

"Don't count on your neighbors," he
went on. "Most of them aren't even home. Just sweet old Miss Evans.
That nice Holloway family. Wally Sikes and his loud-ass
Camaro."

He located something else in his bag.
Gloves. Black leather, sinister, plainly being made ready for some
sort of crime.

My heart thudded as he began to pull
them on. I barely heard his next words.

"It's convenient that all the units
have separate A/C ducts. It was very easy to get access and rock
everyone to sleep with a little whiff of gas."

He finished pulling on the gloves.
Again his fingers traced my face. This time the cool leather made
me shiver.

"I want to know if that was real Eva
on those fake panties," he said.

I worked my wrists harder as his hands
began to map my body. They skimmed my throat, then the heavy curves
of my breasts under the thin cloth.

Slowly his palms brushed over my
nipples, grazing them with the lightest of touches. Traitors that
they were, they rose up under his hands.

When he reached my hated lower
stomach, I turned my head away, unable to meet his eyes. I didn't
want to see myself reflected there, afraid of what I might
see.

"I'm not going to hurt you. You have
my word," he promised.

But you
are hurting me,
a silent little voice
sobbed inside of me.
Please just leave me
alone.

The leather slid under the waistband
of my panties. My thighs pressed together on reflex, hard enough to
tremble.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he
repeated. "I could have done that months ago when I first found
you. I could have done it tonight when you slept."

"It's too late to say no," he went on.
"You already gave yourself to me, a long time ago. Now open for me,
Eva. I'm waiting."

Something in his voice made me more
helpless than whatever held my hands. In his mind, I really was
already his.

But there was something even worse. In
some dark and twisted corner, part of me agreed.

(END OF PREVIEW)

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