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I press it to her forehead, dabbing up the blood that hasn't dried yet. Her eyebrows crinkle together as her nose scrunches up. Her hand reaches for the wound, and I pull it down to stop her. Her long, slender fingers squeeze mine, and a warmth courses through my body. Her hand feels so small.

Don’t get a fucking boner right now, man.Not the time, and a bit fucking weird, given that the girl’s unconscious with her head in my lap.

Her eyelids start to flutter open.God, she is so pretty.She moans, her body rolling as she tries to wake up.Not helping the dick situation at all.

“What happened?” she groans, her fingers linking with mine.

“Hey, you’re okay. You just hit your head pretty hard, so take it easy,” I whisper, not wanting to scare her.

“Am I in the hospital?”

“Umm . . . no.”

She’s going to panic, in . . . three . . . her eyelids open up, two . . . she realizes her head is in my lap . . . one . . . I give her hand the gentlest of squeezes and—

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

She jumps off me, practically rolling away GI Jane style. Not gonna lie; I don’t hate the image that conjures up, but she stumbles back, hand clutched to her head.

I raise my hands, palms facing her, surrendering immediately.

“How’d you get the cable ties off?”

Ah, shit.

“I couldn’t reach you with them on, so I snapped them off.”

She stares, her eyebrows knitting together like she is trying to calculate the trajectory to the moon, glancing between me, the bloody t-shirt, and the red stain on my pants where her head has been resting.

“You could have killed me,” she says.

No use lying about it. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

I pause for a moment, mulling over my answer. I can’t tell her the truth. That I’ve thought of her for years and only frequented that god-awful juice bar to catch a glimpse of her. Not yet, at least. It’s too soon.

“And live without ever knowing why you brought me here?” I grin. “I couldn’t possibly.”

Her frown softens a little, and she perches on the wicker chair she sat on earlier today.

“So, you do want to know why you’re here,” she murmurs.

“Wouldn’t you? If you were abducted.”

“Well, why didn’t you ask me earlier?”

“I thought it would annoy you most if I didn’t ask you anything.”

She nods.

Practically a written confession. I’m obsessed with you.

“And why are you telling me that now? I’m not letting you go, you know.”

I smile. She sounds so sure of herself. “Hmm. I think you’ve had more than enough excitement for one day. Are you ready to tell me why I’m here?”

She sighs. “Give me a minute.”