106. SLEEPLESS DREAMS

106. SLEEPLESS DREAMS
Arianna

Before I could react, before I could even register his intention, his hand snaked out, snaring me by the waist.

A sharp intake of breath escaped my lips as he hoisted me off my feet, my world tilting sideways, the polished floorboards rushing up to meet my vision before I was abruptly airborne, slung over his shoulder like a carelessly discarded doll.

Shock, sharp and disorienting, slammed through me.

My carefully constructed composure shattered completely, replaced by a surge of bewildered outrage.

I sputtered, choked on a gasp of air, the world now viewed from an upside-down perspective, disorienting and utterly humiliating.

Nicole, behind me, gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in theatrical shock.

But even through the haze of my own surprise, I could hear the muffled sound of her giggles, high-pitched and delighted.

She was eating this up, the spectacle of my abduction providing her with endless amusement.

“Hey! Put me down!” I shouted, my voice muffled against the stiff fabric of his uniform, the words emerging as a strangled protest.

He ignored me, of course. Ignoring me was Vincent’s specialty, a subtle form of dominance that always managed to fray my carefully constructed nerves.

He reached for my duffel bag, slinging it over his free shoulder with effortless strength, adding insult to injury.

There was no point in arguing, no point in resisting. His mind was made up, his course set.

“Bye Nicole!” I yelled over my shoulder, a half-hearted farewell delivered in a tone of bewildered resignation.

We were moving now, out of the apartment and into the hallway, Vincent’s steady stride eating up the distance.

He carried me as effortlessly as if I weighed nothing, my head bouncing against his back, the scent of his aftershave, that citrus scent, sharp and masculine, filling my nostrils.

The elevator ride down to the first floor was a blur of motion and humiliation.

I could feel the curious stares of the other occupants, their eyes widening in open amusement at the spectacle of a woman being carried like a sack of potatoes by a uniformed detective.

The short walk to his car was equally mortifying.

The cool morning air did little to dispel the heat that flushed my cheeks.

Passersby turned to stare, their glances a mixture of amusement and mild shock.

I felt like a caught criminal in the clutches of my executioner.

Vincent, utterly unfazed, continued his relentless march, his grip on my thighs firm, possessive, a silent warning against any attempts at escape.

Reaching his car, a sleek black sedan, he deposited my bag in the trunk with a casual thud.

Then, with a finality that brooked no argument, he opened the passenger door.

But instead of lowering me directly into the seat, he paused, lowering me slowly until my feet skimmed the ground, but still caged against the open door, trapped between his body and the cold metal. He leaned in, his face inches from mine, a predatory smirk playing on his lips.

“How did you sleep?”

The question, innocent on the surface, dripped with dark innuendo.

My mouth opened, then snapped shut, the blush on my cheeks intensifying, spreading down my neck, betraying the chaotic flutter of my heart.

He knew exactly what he had done, knew the restless, dream-filled sleep he had gifted me, knew the lingering ache in muscles that had been thoroughly, deliciously, exhausted. He was reveling in my discomfort, in the raw, exposed vulnerability he had so skillfully orchestrated.

I managed a pout, a childish petulance that felt weak even to my own ears. “Good. No thanks to you.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against my skin. Leaning closer, his fingers traced the line of my jaw, the touch light, almost reverent, yet radiating an undeniable possessiveness.

“Really…” he hummed, his golden eyes darkening, pupils widening, reflecting the predatory gleam that danced within them. “Do you need another reminder?”

Before I could answer, before I could even formulate a coherent thought, his lips were on my neck, hot and demanding, sending a shiver of pure sensation down my spine.

The scent of his aftershave mingled with the metallic tang of his gun holster, a potent, intoxicating combination.

I closed my eyes, my fingers digging into the bulletproof vest beneath his uniform, the hard, unforgiving material a stark contrast to the yielding warmth of his skin beneath.

“You’re absolute devil,” I whispered, the words escaping on a ragged breath, a confession rather than an accusation.

Vincent chuckled again, the sound low and satisfied, a dark promise hanging in the air.

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze intense. “Only for you, sweetheart. Only for you.” He paused, his thumb gently stroking my jawline. “So, tell me honestly. Besides the obvious… did you dream of me?”

I bit my lip, suddenly self-conscious again. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow, his lips twitching into a knowing smirk. “I thought I left a more lasting impression than a ‘maybe’.”

I shoved lightly against his chest, the movement ineffectual. “You know you did. You’re insufferable.”

“But you love it,” he countered, his voice a low growl. “Don’t you?” He dipped his head again, his breath ghosting across my lips. “Admit it.”

I looked away, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “I hate you.” The lie felt flimsy, insincere, even to my own ears.

Vincent’s grip on my jaw tightened, just enough to make me meet his gaze. “Liar.” He let the word hang in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. “Now tell me... what did you dream about?” His voice was a husky command, and I knew resistance was futile.

I shook my head. “I slept like a baby after you left but everything aches now,” I pouted.

Vincent’s eyes darkened, a predatory gleam entering them. “A baby, hmm? I find that hard to believe. Especially given the...condition you’re in.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that tickled my ear. “Tell me what aches. Be specific.”

I flushed, heat creeping up my neck. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He traced the line of my collarbone with his finger, sending shivers down my spine. “Or am I just stating facts? Last night was… intense. I made sure you wouldn’t forget me anytime soon.”

I groaned, closing my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re addicted,” he purred.

"Can we not do this in front of Nicole's apartment building and go home if you're not working?" I nod at his uniform.