Possession Read Online Free PDF

but didn’t turn to face her. “Let me guess. It hit you at the same time the handcuffs did.”
    “Are you going to let me go or not?”
    “Not,” he said after a long moment, then slung the towel over his shoulder. “I won’t be long.”
    “Is that a promise or a threat?”
    “I suppose that depends on your point of view.”
    He turned and headed for the door, listening to the squeak of the box springs as she shifted on the bed. He heard her cuss viciously under herbreath as she apparently realized there was no quick way out of her restraints.
     
    A KELA YANKED on the cuffs again then felt defeat settle into her muscles. The handcuffs appeared to be police-grade quality and were firmly secured to an iron headboard that was bolted to the wall.
    Bolted to the wall. The only other place she’d seen beds set up like this was motels and hotels, so that the headboards wouldn’t bang against the wall during wild sex.
    She closed her eyes and stretched the tension from her neck. Funny how the word sex kept popping up every five minutes since she’d been in Claude Lafitte’s company. And not because of his sexual connection to a murder victim, either.
    It was upsetting to find herself physically attracted to a man who was not only a fugitive from justice but her kidnapper. Oddly, she wasn’t in fear for her life, which she figured was the way she should be feeling now, considering the crime he was suspected of. But something on a gut level told her she had nothing to fear from Claude. Nothing, that is, that had anything to do with his harming her.
    Of course, the fact that she hadn’t been with a man in a long, long time might be partially to blamefor her primal awareness of the sexy Cajun. But, still, it didn’t come close to explaining everything.
    She looked around the simple house that was little more than a functional shack. There was a galley kitchen in the opposite corner. A dresser was in the corner beside the bed. A small dining table and chairs sat next to that. And on her other side was a small living-room arrangement.
    She heard running water and turned toward the sound through the nearby open window. There in the backyard Lafitte was stepping under the spray of an outdoor showerhead, a wooden wall exposing his powerful calves and feet at the bottom, and his broad chest and shoulders at the top.
    Akela couldn’t seem to pry her gaze from him, watching as he lathered up, suds running down his wet skin, sunlight glinting off his soaked hair.
    Dear Lord.
    She frantically looked around for something with which to pick the lock on the cuffs. The place obviously belonged to a man, so there were no bobby pins lying around. No sunglasses so she could use the earpiece. She reached up with her free hand to check her earrings, but she wore her standard simple studs that weren’t long enough to do anything with.
    She drew in a deep breath. Think, goddamn it, think .
    No phone that she could see. Not that that was surprising. No television. No microwave. In fact, aside from a transistor radio on the kitchen counter, and the whirling ceiling fans, there didn’t appear to be anything of an electronic nature at all. Even the refrigerator appeared to be gas generated. That didn’t bode well because of the possibility that no city electricity at all ran to the house—the fans could easily run from a powerful battery or small generator—which meant that they were more isolated than she feared.
    The screen door squeaked and she looked up to find Lafitte wearing his jeans and running the towel along his neck and shoulders. Her body temperature shot up another notch, causing the sweat that had accumulated between her breasts to trickle down to her stomach. Suddenly she was all too aware of her state of undress. And, apparently, so was Lafitte.
    He looked at her and she felt his gaze straight down to her core. For a moment she thought he might act on the attraction she saw in his eyes.
    Then he switched on the transistor