Catching Ariana, watching me with curiosity and desire on her face, is the last thing I expected. She obviously feels the attraction between us, and I’m starting to think it’s something I can use to my advantage. If I play on her emotions, then maybe she’ll stop being so damn worried that I’ll kill her. It might make her forget her fear, and she’ll stop fighting me every fucking chance she gets.

A weird sensation skitters through me. Guilt. I’m not one to play games, and using a woman is not something I’m comfortable with doing.

But still, it might solve the problem and make things easier while we’re both stuck here.

Or just more complicated.

Fuck.

Processing the new development, I get up and head downstairs. As I walk into the kitchen, Ariana’s standing on her toes, and stretching her body, she tries to reach a box of cereal. I come up behind her, and the second she becomes aware of me, she spins around. Her hands come up in a defensive move, her palms slamming against my chest. I ignore her reaction and take the box of Fruit Loops from the cupboard. As I set it down on the counter, I lower my eyes back to Ariana. She’s watching me with wide eyes, her cheeks quickly growing pink.

For a moment, we don’t move, and with fascination, I watch as the blush deepens on her skin.

Yeah, she’s definitely attracted to me.

Her hands slide down my chest to my abs, and her touch makes my cock stir, but then realization flashes over her features, and she yanks back, pressing herself against the counter.

“Move,” she hisses, glancing to the side to avoid making eye contact with me.

Having her cornered is one hell of a turn-on. It’s like this woman calls to every predatory part inside me. She makes me want to hunt. To chase her until she’s so weak she can’t fight back anymore. It’s fucking exhilarating.

The corner of my mouth lifts as I take a step backward.

Ariana shoots me a glare and begins to walk away, but then she stops and coming back, she reaches past me, grabs the box of cereal, and starts to make breakfast for herself.

I prepare a cup of coffee for myself and sipping on the warm liquid, I lean back against the counter, watching Ariana eat.

“Stop staring at me,” she mumbles around a mouthful of Fruit Loops.

I tilt my head, the corner of my mouth lifting again.

She lets out a huff and scowls at me while she swallows the bite, then she says, “Just because you’re hot, it doesn’t mean anything. You have a shitty personality.” She begins to scoop up another bite, then adds, “Oh, let’s not forget you kidnapped, hurt, and degraded me, so don’t get any funny ideas. Being an asshole is not an attractive quality for me.”

Ariana takes another bite of her cereal, and when my smirk grows, her glare darkens.