When they finally stopped, he was on top of her… and her wrists were being held over her head… and her back was being crushed into the ground… and she had never been so scared in her life.
Sadie thought about really screaming now, but her throat closed tight. She pushed at the ground and tried to buck the man off her, at the same time as she lashed out with her feet.
That was when he shifted from sitting on her to lying on her, trapping her legs with his own.
Sadie instantly stilled. This was going from bad to worse; she now had a naked madman on top of her—and she was wearing shorts.
Oh, God. Now that she had such a close look at him, he was no longer a demigod. He was a full-blown god, Adonis, maybe. His broad shoulders and amazingly wide chest blocked out the sunlight. His warm breath feathered over her face. Sadie could feel every inch of his muscled legs running the length of hers. And she could feel something… something else touching her bare thigh. Something firm.
He was excited, either from the thrill of the chase, their suggestive position, or the anticipation of what he was planning to do. Sadie didn’t want to scream anymore. She wanted to faint.
She did close her eyes, so she wouldn’t have to look at his triumphant, very male face.
Why didn’t he move?
Then she opened her eyes to find him staring at her hands, which he still held firmly over her head. She immediately opened her bare left hand and let the camera fall onto the ground.
Still, he kept staring over her head.
He reached up and tugged at the glove on her right hand. Sadie closed it into a fist, to keep her glove on. Momentarily deterred from his task, he turned his attention to her face.
She turned her head away.
He pulled her chin back to face him, then gently ran his thumb along her bottom lip, watching as if fascinated.
Good Lord. Was he going to kiss her?
His finger trailed down her face, over her chin, to her neck, and Sadie felt him touch the opening of her blouse. She twisted frantically and tried to bite the arm holding her hands over her head.
He lowered the full force of his weight onto her then, and Sadie fought to breathe. Well, heck. She hadn’t realized he’d been holding himself off her before. She stilled, and he lifted himself slightly, allowing her to gasp for air.
Their gazes locked.
His long blond hair dripped lake water on her chin and throat. The heavy object dangling from his neck nestled against her breasts, causing a disturbing sensation to course all the way down to the pit of her stomach. Sadie could feel her clothes slowly sopping up his sweat, his hairy legs abrasive against hers, his chest pushing into her with every breath he took. The heat from his body scorched her to the point that she couldn’t work up enough moisture in her mouth to speak.
Not that she could think of anything to say to the brute.
As if sensing her discomfort, he slowly turned up the right corner of his mouth, and his gaze broke from hers and returned to her right hand. This time Sadie was unable to keep him from pulling the glove off. She balled her now bare hand into a fist as she felt her face flush with embarrassment.
And that made her mad. Why should she care that this man found her disgusting? Her disfigurement could well be half of her salvation.
He sat up suddenly, still straddling her, and released her wrists. Sadie instinctively rushed to push down her twisted clothes and cover her stomach, but her hand bumped into his groin. With a gasp of dismay, Sadie jerked, hiding her scarred right hand in her shirt.
The other side of the brute’s mouth turned up, setting his face into a cocky grin, his forest-green eyes sparkling with the pleasure of scaring her spitless.
Dammit. Why didn’t he speak?
He leaned forward, and Sadie froze in anticipation of his kiss. But he only picked up her camera. He carefully lifted the rewind and popped it open. He was not so gentle, however, when he ripped the film from it. He tossed the exposed film and the camera onto the ground beside them.
He opened her pack next, spilling the contents onto the ground. He poked around in the mess he’d made and found her handheld GPS. He turned it over, pushed several buttons, and tossed it back onto the ground. He picked up her cell phone, flipped it open, then discarded it like trash.
Next, he picked up her roll of orange surveyor tape.
He stared at that tape for several seconds, turning it around in his hand as he looked from it to her. He pulled a three-foot section free and tugged it between his hands until it snapped in half. He threw both pieces down onto the ground next to the GPS and the cell phone.
And then he picked up the small roll of duct tape she used for emergency repairs.
Now, Sadie had heard that victims often were killed with their own guns. She suddenly understood that concept when the man freed a length of her own tape and grabbed her wrists. He stopped, though, when he saw the eight-year-old scars on the palm and wrist of her right hand.
He handed her back her glove. Sadie struggled to put it on, the chore made difficult by her uncontrollable trembling. He was still sitting heavily on top of her, he was still disturbingly naked, and he still hadn’t uttered one single word.
He took both her hands as soon as she finished putting on her glove and taped them together. He slid down her body and started to take hold of her legs.
Sadie kicked him hard enough in the stomach that he grunted, then she rolled and scrambled up to run. She didn’t make it past her camera before he grabbed her by the ankles and pushed her back to the ground, on her face this time. Sadie looked over her shoulder as he wrapped duct tape around her legs.
The damn crazy man was grinning again.
She kicked out at him again with her bound feet.
He smacked her on her fanny.
Sadie closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, burying her face in her arms. God save her, Adonis was a sadistic brute.
Sadie flinched when a sharp, carrying whistle suddenly rent the air. She snapped her head around to see what he was doing.
Was he calling a friend?
Sadie looked at the scattered contents of her pack. Where was her knife? She needed something, a weapon, to defend herself. She checked to see that he was still looking off into the forest, watching for someone, while she rolled toward a group of young pine trees. She found a lower limb devoid of bark and wiggled to sit up beside it. She looked up at the man again, only to find him looking over his shoulder at her, still grinning, not at all worried that she would get far being trussed up like a turkey ready for cooking.
Ha. This turkey was not going into the pot without a fight.
He turned back and whistled again, and Sadie broke off the small branch at the same time, his signal covering the sound of the snap. She quickly tucked the sharp little stick under her arm.
The ground started to rumble beneath her. A sound, faint at first, slowly gathered in volume until it was like thunder moving closer. A huge, solid black horse appeared suddenly, galloping through the forest and sliding to a stop a mere two feet in front of the man. Sadie had to shield her face from flying debris.
A horse?
Holy Mother of God. The brute had a horse?
Sadie also remembered hearing that a victim should never let her assailant take her to a second location. She almost snorted at the absurdity of that useless warning. Where could he take her that was any more remote?
The horse was the largest animal of its kind she had ever seen. It had a funny-looking saddle on its back, and tied to that saddle was a bundle of clothes, a backpack, and a long, leather-wrapped stick that must be a fishing pole.
With an almost negligent look back to see that she was still there, the man patted his fidgeting horse and pulled the clothes free of the saddle. Turning to face her, he started dressing.
The jerk had no shame.
Once dressed, he pulled some socks and boots out of the pack and walked over to sit down beside her.