It was a full three days before Clint saw Genevieve again. He’d been careful to avoid her as he was sure she’d been careful to avoid him. But it was inevitable they’d run into each other eventually. As it happened, they both went to the kitchen one afternoon at the same time for a late lunch.
She jumped when she saw him, and he had to bite back a curse. He found himself angry with her. He’d uprooted his routine to stay out of her way. He was letting her live. He wasn’t molesting her. He was taking care of her needs and keeping her comfortable. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. Except keeping her locked away against her will.
He’d seen her naked. And touched her breast. Had sex . And spanked her. None of that should be cause for this much anxiety or jumpiness, no matter who he was. He glanced down, noticing his erection and knew she must have noticed it, too.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. But the gruff way he said it didn’t sound believable to his own ears. For the past three
