Stockholm Surrender Read Online Free PDF Page A

into my back and the crown of my head was squashed against book spines.
    I gulped as the knife slanted and glinted over my forehead. The roots of my hair complained as he tugged his fistful of fringe and sliced, unnervingly near to the roots, with the sinfully sharp blade.
    “That should do,” he said, showing me a big clump of my pale-blonde hair. “And he’ll definitely know it’s your hair when he sees that.” He nodded at my head.
    I raised my hand to my hairline. There was at least a two-inch square patch of soft stubble. “Oh crap,” I said with a frown.
    He poked the lock of hair into a small, clear plastic bag and shoved it in his front jean pocket, then re-sheathed the knife before tucking it away. All the time his body kept pressed into mine, and as much as I was monumentally pissed about having a bald patch, the feel of him, his closeness, the sound of his breathing and the scent of his skin were like a drug to me—all I could feel was lust.
    Am I crazy?
    Probably.
    “So what now?” I asked.
    His gaze harnessed mine and he cupped my cheek with his gloved palms, the wool scratchy against my skin. “Now I send that to your father, just to let him know I can still get to his precious little girl even on the other side of the world. He needs to listen to me. He needs to give James’ case attention, soon.”
    “How is James?”
    He frowned. “I stopped over on my way here and after a lot of paperwork and hanging around I saw him. He’s thin, thin and scared, but typical James he’s trying to be positive. Although how he’s managing it I don’t know. The place is hell on earth.”
    “It must be awful.”
    Ty narrowed his eyes and nibbled at his full bottom lip. “Yeah, it is. I’ve got to get him out, there’s going to be a retrial but it could go against him, there’s talk of the death sentence.”
    “Shit, really? God, that’s awful. I want to help.”
    He tipped his head a little nearer to mine and I traced my fingertips over the rise of his collarbones to the hollow of his throat.
    “Do you really?” he asked.
    “Yes, of course. I’ve brought it up with my father several times.”
    “So bring it up again.” His voice was steely.
    “I will, I have. Trouble is, he’s so pissed that you kidnapped me back in Oz that he flips into a blind rage whenever the subject is raised.”
    “Well, he’s going to have to get over that. Maybe when he gets the message that you’re going to be taken again he’ll come to his senses.”
    “Aren’t you taking me now?”
    He shook his head.
    I shifted against him.
    He didn’t budge.
    “So when are you going to let me go?”
    He curled his lips into a devilish smile. “In a minute.”
    I swallowed and wondered what it was about that smile that sent hot fiery fingers of need speeding to every erogenous zone in my body.
    “Right after I’ve done this,” he murmured.
    In a sudden rush, he claimed my mouth in a hot, hungry kiss. I opened up and let him in, releasing a small moan of pleasure as his arms circled my body and pulled me close. Damn, the man could kiss. His mouth communicated desire and strength, passion and danger and I lapped it up like the starving, reckless woman I was.
    He chased for my tongue and we began a wild, slippery tango. As if we couldn’t get enough of each other.
    I slotted my fingers into his thick hair and urged him closer.
    “Ah, fuck, Penny,” he gasped, trailing supercharged kisses over my cheek. “If only…”
    I tipped my neck as he explored behind my ear with his mouth, making me shiver in bliss. “If only what?” I asked breathlessly, barely controlling the delicious shudders rippling up my spine.
    “If only circumstances were different.” He was exploring with his hands too, the thin material of the gloves sliding beneath my sweater, over the base of my ribs to my breasts.
    I trembled as he cupped me through my bra and tweaked my nipple. “Different?” I managed. My brain was struggling to work. He did