"Open the door!" he yelled.
She remained mute and her feet stayed in place while with one hand, she reached out to the poster of the bed to steady herself.
"Open the goddamn door, Natalie."
She licked her lips and took a deep breath, preparing her voice to be strong. "No way."
"You've got thirty seconds to think about it. I'm going to go take the fucking aspirin and come back with the key to this door. Trust me when I tell you things will be better for you if you unlock it yourself."
Natalie heard him move away from the door and her mind raced while very real horror began to set in. What the hell had she done? What the hell should she do now?
She wasn't unlocking the door, she knew that much. But whatever she did, she needed to decide in the next few seconds.
She needed to be calm. She needed to be in control and unafraid, or at least appear to be. After all--a wild animal was more prone to attack if it scented fear. She moved to sit in the middle of the bed and picked up the magazine she'd been planning to read later, as if she didn't have a care in the world. And suddenly it hit her that the last place she wanted to be cornered was on the bed. Or even in a bedroom.
She flew to the door and unlocked it, preparing to leave the room for the relative safety of the living room.
Marco stood in the entrance of her bedroom, and the forward motion of her body propelled her torso within inches of clashing with his. She came to a skidding halt. Had he been standing there the whole time? Both fear and anger dominated her emotions. "You tricked me. You don't have a key." She began to push past him.
"Asshole? You called me asshole?" he hissed, as a vein on the side of his neck twitched, hostility seething from his body as he blocked her attempt to move past him.
Chapter Five
A chill hung in the air at his words and Natalie's features hardened in response, both from his anger and from the fear trickling through her veins that she was determined to control. "You lied to me. There's no key."
She moved to brush past him again and he continued to block her retreat with his body. "I have a key." His voice was dangerously contemptuous as he lifted the key in front of her face and then quickly pocketed it before his hands fell to her shoulders, holding her firmly in place.
"It's not really my room if you have a key to it," she snapped, attempting to move back from his touch, but his fingers bit into her shoulders harder, holding her in place.
"It's not your room. It's where I allow you to sleep." His voice was an angry sneer, the words gritted through bared teeth.
"Let me go," she said shakily, attempting to move away from him.
"Be still," he hissed. There was a threat in his voice and it effectively stilled her movements, but she glared at him before her eyes dropped away from his.
"Don't threaten me," she said in an angry whisper. "I swear--I'll call 911." She felt his touch stiffen on her shoulders and then he lifted one hand from her and slowly put it in his pocket.
"You'll need your phone for that." His words carried a hint of sarcasm as he pulled her phone from his pocket where he must have picked it up after she left it in the kitchen. He tossed it a few feet and it landed on her bed.
His hand moved back to her shoulder and Natalie went completely silent as she shut her eyes.
They stood like that for a few seconds, and she tried her best not to tremble, but it was impossible. He was too close, his skin was too warm, and she knew he could feel the shaky movements of her body.
He placed a single finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. Her eyes remained mutinously closed. "Open your eyes," he demanded.
It was only a small measure of defiance, but Natalie waited a few seconds before she slowly lifted her lids and found him staring down at her, way too close for her comfort. His eyes, although bloodshot, were a deep, chocolate brown, and as they bore into hers, it was with an effort that Natalie kept her gaze on him.
"I don't need the kind of shit you just pulled." His finger and thumb bit into her chin. "There are a couple of things you need to learn about me, and quickly. I don't respond well to threats or temper tantrums. Tears don't affect me--ever." His eyes searched hers and then he finished through gritted teeth, "I never apologize."
He continued to study her face and the emotional upheaval suddenly took a toll on Natalie and her will to continue fighting him disappeared. Her body trembled and her torso bent, her pelvis finding purchase against his thighs as she gave up and let her weight fall against him. His eyes flared in response, and he moved his hands from her shoulders, sliding one arm around her waist to bear the brunt of her weight, and the other sliding over her cheek, into her hair where he gripped her scalp, lifting her face to his.
The difference in their height was disparate and Natalie felt completely eclipsed by his sheer size and the steely muscles surrounding her. Against her will, the sexual aura he possessed, and that she always tried to ignore, enveloped her senses. As his hand tightened in her hair and his scent washed over her, her heart jolted and a dizzying current of electricity washed over her. Suddenly, she understood exactly how vulnerable she was to him.
He studied her for a moment before he began speaking. "I had a bad night--I'm having a bad morning." His voice turned deeper and lost much of the anger. "I don't usually drink so much--my head is killing me. Tanya's a bitch--that's over and I don't want to think about her." His hand around her waist began caressing her and he leaned down and put his lips on her forehead.
He maintained that position for a moment while Natalie's heart continued beating furiously in her chest. His lips moved slowly back and forth across her forehead, and it felt as if he were breathing in her scent. Shock and a tiny river of delight stealthily made their way through her veins.
"I shouldn't have snapped at you," he said against her skin. "I know you were only trying to help me."
Natalie's breath hitched and a whirling began in her head as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. He never apologized? Granted, the words 'I'm sorry,' or 'I apologize,' never came from his lips, but everything else he was saying sounded amazingly contrite and it confused her even more.
Before she could think too much about it, he lifted his head and met her gaze once again. "I need to get to the bank--I'm late already." His hand untangled from her hair and his knuckles grazed her cheek. "Will you be okay?"
"Yes." Her voice was little more than a whisper.
"Will you be here when I get back?"