Falling For You (Love In All Seasons Book 2)

by Frankie Love

  He takes a minute before answering, “I am.”

  I may have been turned on by him earlier—with his sexy cheekbones and perfect nose and strong-arms but those mushy feelings are long gone.

  Now I am just plain confused.

  “Pull over. I need to get my phone.”

  “That’s not gonna happen,” he tells me.

  “That’s not gonna what? I’m Justine Van De—”

  He cuts me off. “I know who you are, remember?”

  “Okay, then do you know I’m supposed to be at The Landmark?” I try to unlock the car doors but they’re locked and I can’t open them.

  This is not happening.

  He nods, clucking his tongue.

  He literally clucks his tongue at me.

  “You’re not going to The Landmark tonight, darlin’.”

  “Do not darlin’ me,” I screech. Reaching through the partition I try to grab at him.

  Not exactly sure what I’m going to grab onto. Grabbing his hand could cause him to spin the wheel and take us off the road. I could strangle him to death and then what? He might crash into a massive pine tree.

  The ideas are terrible, but they don’t even matter because he just uses a lever and pushes up the divider, my hand getting caught between it. I’m not stupid enough to get my hand chopped off by some lunatic limo driver, so I pull it back and listen to the partition move up into place.

  I tried to use the switch on the door to open the divider but it’s locked. So are the back windows.

  I bang on the partition shouting at him to let me out. He does nothing.

  And I can’t even see him because it’s a blacked out window.

  He just keeps driving.

  I have no idea where he’s taking me and I have no way to get out of this car.

  All I know is I’m supposed to be losing my virginity tonight to the highest bidder and instead I’ve been kidnapped by some rogue, bearded, mountain man.

  Chapter 5

  Ryder

  It wasn’t supposed to be so goddamn dramatic, but Justine hollering in the backseat is making my blood boil... and doubt to course through my veins.

  I didn’t think this all the way through. Like what might happen if I got caught with this heiress. I also never thought how she might feel about being kidnapped.

  My mind focused on one thing and one thing alone: an innocent woman like her should not be sold to a man like Luther.

  I came to the auction tonight to see if Luther was there… I just had to see.

  Him... but also her.

  Ever since I saw Justine on the television screen I’ve felt drawn to her, felt a need to protect her, look over her.

  So when I saw Luther at the bar, I tried to buy a ticket to Justine’s auction, but it was sold out. And it turns out I would have needed to do a shit ton of paperwork a week ago, which I hadn’t.

  I hadn’t realized how badly I would need to make sure Justine was safe until I saw her at the bar.

  How badly I would feel the need to keep her away from Luther and his demeaning attitude toward women—he wouldn’t understand a strong woman like Justine. He wouldn’t respect her.

  And she deserves a hell of a lot more than that.

  To say he’s a creep is an understatement. Six months ago I came to his place and he dragged me around, taking me on a tour to see his BDSM dungeon. Whips and red velvet and leather. All that kinky shit.

  It may be a fantasy for some people—but Justine has never even had a man inside her. She certainly can’t go from nothing to Luther overnight.

  It makes me sick thinking about it. It’s one thing if she wanted that. Hell, I’ll pull out the blindfold and tie her to the bedpost if she wants, but Luther isn’t the kind of man who considers the woman he is with.

  And I knew from the moment Luther saw the television spot about Justine’s auction, that Luther wouldn’t stop unless he had her.

  I think she deserves more.

  At least, that is what I thought before I saw her in person.

  Now I know she deserves more.

  She deserves everything.

  That woman is so damn beautiful. Her eyes open with wonder, her dark hair hinting at another, less innocent side of her. A side I get hard just thinking about.

  And when I showed up at that bar, I still didn’t know what I would end up doing to keep Justine safe.

  But then I saw Luther come in with that smug grin on his face. And I knew what I needed to do.

  I didn’t want to beat him at his own game, no.

  I wanted to fucking ruin his game.

  Justine keeps banging on the partition, but I know if I slow down, the odds of us getting away unscathed are slimmer than hell. I grabbed this limo at a gas station while the dumbass driver was in the men’s room.

  But I know police cars will be cruising around looking for Justine. And with all the press at the convention center, I know if I want to get out of here with Justine, in one piece, I need to accelerate like a madman and get this woman to my cabin.

  Although, it would be a hell of a lot easier to get where I wanna go in my truck. This shitty low ride limo isn’t exactly made for Alaskan highways.

  Not that I thought any of this through. I had one goal in mind when I stole this limo and decided to kidnap her.

  Keeping her safe. Keeping her body from the hands of a monster.

  “Open the window,” Justine screams.

  I tighten my jaw and keep my eyes on the road. I’d be lying if I said her voice, all riled up, didn’t cause me some doubt; but I kidnapped Justine to save her from Luther.

  So, I let her raise a ruckus in the back seat.

  It’s for her own good, and once I explain, I know she’ll agree with me.

  A few hours later, I pull into my driveway, relieved as fuck that we got here in one piece. When we left Anchorage, the night sky was clear, but a thick fog blankets everything now, and I’m glad to park the limo in my garage which is big enough for my boats.

  I’m anxious to get inside. It’s late and I’m starved. And thankfully, Justine has stopped her hysterics.

  That is until I open her car door. I lean into the car. She claws at me, hollering like a fool, but I grab her wrists quickly, telling her to follow me.

  “Why are you doing this?” she screams. “Let go of me.”

  She’s wearing a tight little dress; one that shows off all her assets, which makes sense since she was selling her body earlier tonight. And damn, as she wriggles around, squirming as I pull her from the car, the dress bunches up high on her thighs, her long legs tempting me. Her strapless dress is pushed extra low, and her gorgeous tits are practically begging me to lick them.

  Damn, when I saw her on television, I knew this woman was hot as fuck, but now that I’m holding her in my arms I know she is certifiably divine.

  She punches me, her fists meeting my rock hard chest.

  “Let me go,” she yells as I pick her up, tossing her over my shoulder. This woman is wild, and I don’t need her running through the Alaskan wilderness late at night. She’ll get lost, or worse. There are bears and coyotes out here. And I brought her here to keep her safe. Not to have her hunted down by a pack of wolves.

  Holding her over my shoulder, her ass is so damn close and I’m tempted as hell to give her a little smack. Her booty is round and meant to be touched. The idea that no one has tapped that ass before gets me hard as hell.

  But I restrain myself and instead, I carry her through the downpour to my cabin, unlocking my front door, and dead-bolting the door behind me.

  Setting her down, I hold onto her shoulders and look straight into her dark brown eyes. “You try to run, you’ll die out there. We are two hours from civilization. My nearest neighbor is thirty miles away. Do you understand?”

  And that’s when I see it isn’t anger flaring up behind her eyes, but fear. Tears well up, and I realize she may be a beautiful woman but she’s still fragile, lost, and was just kidnapped by a man she do
esn’t know.

  She’s with me—a stranger, and she’s a long, long way from home.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” she asks, her voice shaky.

  My jaw tenses, her words are so fucking vulnerable, that I can’t help but to move my hands to cup her heart-shaped face. All I want to do is pull her against me and keep her away from the world at large.

  She may be an opinionated heiress, but she’s also an innocent virgin. “Trust, me,” I tell her. “I’m doing this to protect you.”

  EXPOSÉ

  The Gossip Column You Can Sink Your Teeth Into

  IT’S ALL FUN AND GAMES UNTIL THE VIRGIN GOES MISSING! By Trista Piper

  ALERT:

  Shortly after Luther Morris arrived at the iconic Landmark Hotel in Anchorage, Alaska, to share an intimate evening with soon-to-be deflowered Justine Van De Shire, sources began reporting that the virgin had gone missing.

  Speculation is rampant at this point: just where is Justine?

  The only hard fact we have at this moment is that she isn’t at the hotel where she was promised to be and the limousine set to bring her here has gone off the grid.

  But the limousine driver has not.

  Jack McHarbor, long time driver for hired-car company Sleek Motors, reported that he stopped at a gas station restroom on his way to the Convention Center where the auction was held, and when he left the men’s room, the limo was gone.

  Has Justine had a simple case of cold feet or is something more sinister at play?

  Chapter 6

  Justine

  “Protect?” I ask, my voice cracking with incredulity. “Protect me?” I look up at this man who, for a few minutes at least, seemed so sincere in the bar—a man with a body that could rip apart demons. His shoulders are broad and his eyes pierce my heart. With his hands on my cheeks, I feel so small—breakable. Like he could crush me.

  But when I look in his eyes, I know he would not do that. His body may be a force to be reckoned with, but his eyes tell a different story. And while I don’t know why I am here, I know he isn’t intending to hurt me.

  How could a man brushing away the tear falling down my cheek be a killer?

  I swallow. Because even if I am swimming in his deep blue eyes in five seconds flat—I remember the hard truth.

  He kidnapped me.

  I push away from him, all the while knowing he is right. I can’t flee in the night, I have to wait until daylight. But even then, if I try to run he will follow. And I know with a physique like his, he could outrun me any day—not to mention I don’t know my way around this dense forest —which is his backyard.

  I’m seriously fucked.

  He doesn’t reach to pull me back in his grasp.

  “You want to run away, fine, but you’ll die out there. You watched the road as we left town; you know how far civilization is.”

  It’s true. I may be a fool for selling my virginity but I am not a complete idiot. The animals I auctioned my body to save are not just little bunnies and owls. This land is full of wild beasts and I don’t want to be anyone’s midnight snack.

  The idea sends my mind to another place entirely. I was supposed to be someone’s midnight snack tonight—someone’s dessert. Someone who paid good money for me. Five million dollars for me.

  “I shouldn’t be here. I should be at The Landmark. You ruined everything,” I sob. “And why?”

  He runs his hand over his thick beard, raising an eyebrow at me. “I’ll tell you, but I’m fucking hungry. Are you?”

  I make a sharp laugh. “You want to eat right now? How can you even be thinking about food?” I bite my bottom lip as he shrugs and turns from me toward the small kitchen. “Aren’t you going to lock me up in the closet or something? What kind of kidnapper are you?”

  He pulls two bowls out from a cupboard and sets the table. Napkins, spoons, a loaf of bread in a basket. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about me fleeing the scene.

  The cabin is one room, a twenty foot by twenty foot square box. I think his garage is bigger than his house. But it isn’t the creepy home of a serial killer. There is a worn leather couch and wood stacked in a tidy pile. There’s a well-stocked kitchen, fruit in a bowl and enamelware dishes on open shelving.

  “I don’t lock up women,” he says gruffly, ladling something from a crock pot. It’s steaming hot, smells like stew, and my stomach growls.

  I roll my eyes, walking toward the table, unable to help myself. It smells good. And I was such a bundle of nervous energy today that I can’t remember the last meal I’ve had.

  “You just throw them over your shoulder?”

  That gets a half-smile from him.

  Not that I want a smile.

  I want to beat him to a pulp. I mean, he freaking kidnapped me and I’m in a strange cabin with him and he could be planning on chopping me up into little pieces and feeding me to the bears.

  He walks over to the wood stove, throws a few logs in and strikes a match. My eyes follow his every movement. I know I said it was a creepy cabin, but I twist my lips knowing this place isn’t creepy at all.

  There’s a wool blanket over one of the two easy chairs flanking the stove, a braided rug on the floor. His bed is large, made, and the quilt looks handmade. He may be a mountain man, but he doesn’t send up any red flags. I mean, besides the fact he kidnapped me.

  “You should sit and eat. The soup’s gonna get cold, you realize that?”

  “I probably can’t eat it. I’m vegetarian.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Figured as much.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means I know who you are, an animal rights activist or whatever. Being a vegetarian kinda fits the bill.”

  “So?”

  He smirks. “So, what?”

  I put my hands on my hips, not interested in getting on friendly terms with this man. “So does the soup have meat in it?”

  “A stranger kidnapped you and you’re getting picky about the food you’re being offered?”

  I smile, proud of my ideals. “I am not going to change my ethical code just because you’re hiding me in the middle of nowhere.”

  He sits down at the table. “I know.”

  “You know what?”

  “I know you’re not. You’re the kind of woman who sticks to her guns. I can appreciate that. Luckily I made a vegan lentil soup.”

  I frown. My kidnapper is not supposed to be nice. Or make me soup. The two things don’t match in my mind.

  He sighs, turning from the table and reaching for me. “Come here. I know you aren’t gonna come willingly.” He tugs at my waist, and I’m unable to resist—I feel my body become jelly at his touch.

  Which should not be happening. This rugged man took me against my will—I will not allow myself to melt under his touch.

  He tells me to sit. I do. Then scoots in my chair.

  “Fine,” I say, exaggeratedly. “But now you have to tell me why I’m here.”

  He gives me that infuriatingly sexy smirk again. “I don’t have to tell you anything, Justine.”

  I deflate, wanting to understand why I’m here and not making good on my auction. I hate thinking there is a man waiting for me.

  “You know there is going to be a search party for me, that you won’t get away with this?”

  “I understand,” he says, picking up his spoon.

  “And you don’t care that you are committing a crime and will go to prison for this?“

  “Honestly, I didn’t think that part through.”

  “Well, you should have. Because even if you somehow convinced a judge to let you off, I’d sue you in civil court. Basically, you’re fucked.”

  He sets down the spoon, leaning over the table, the cocky smirk gone and replaced with an intensity that could set this room on fire.

  I set my elbows on the table and lean in too. We’re inches apart, and I feel myself burning up. The cabin is nice and cozy, but his body radiates a heat I’ve neve
r understood before.

  “Justine Van De Shire, sue me for all I’m worth, send me to prison. It’s still worth it.”

  I scoff, confused beyond all get out. “Why?”

  “Because I know what kind of man you need, and it’s not the one who bought you.”

  I glare at him, hot and bothered and royally pissed off. “And I suppose you know what kind of man I need?”

  “I do.”

  “Let me guess,” I say flatly. “I need a man like you?”

  His eyes betray him for a fraction of a moment and I see a flicker of indecision flash between us, but then it’s replaced with a kind confidence I can’t crack. “Don’t worry, I didn’t bring you here to try and sleep with you, Justine.”

  I swallow, feeling embarrassed to assume he brought me here to have his way with me. And in some strange Stockholm syndrome way—I wanted him to want me. “You didn’t?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I brought you here to make sure you left Alaska a virgin.”

  Chapter 7

  Ryder

  Locking eyes with her nearly kills me. I tell her I want her to leave a virgin, but the words are a damn lie. I want her, all of her.

  Having Justine in my cabin brings out my feral instincts. The idea of another man taking her sweet innocence nearly breaks me. I love how she’s rooted in her convictions but soft in other ways.

  And those brown eyes of hers are filled with a tenderness... a longing.

  Dammit. They are filled with desire.

  I know the look because I’m looking at her with the same hunger. The same primal instinct.

  But I can’t say that as we sit across from one another. Hell, no. It would freak the shit out of this virtuous woman.

  I don’t want her skittish, scared. I want to explain the truth of why she’s here, but not before she is ready to believe me.

  And right now, she’s a roller-coaster of emotions. Half wanting to claw my eyes out and the other half... well, I’d like to believe the other half of her wants to strip me down to nothing and run her hands up and down my body.