Prisoner (Criminals & Captives, #1)

by Annika Martin

My pulse kicks up. How would it feel to push her? To undo her? To break her fucking glasses? Because I got the sense she might like her glasses broken. Yeah, the distance between prim and primitive is not so very motherfucking far. I wonder if Ms. Winslow knows about that.

Another pair of cop cars heads over the hill. “You just drive nice, okay?” “Nicely,” she snaps. “What?” “Drive nicely, that’s how you say it. Not drive nice.” Oh God. Nicely. Correcting my grammar even at gunpoint. I’m so fucking hot for her, I think I might burst into flames.

Stone heads back to the Dodge. He assumes I’ll kill her, and that makes me uncomfortable—because I don’t lie to my guys. Especially not to Stone. We’re brothers. Closer than brothers. What is it called when you walk through the same fire and wear the same scars?

I run my finger along her cheek. “I like it when you talk classification,” I murmur. She laughs, a little self-conscious. I like that too. I’m so fucking hard I’m hurting. I’ve always had a thing for smart chicks. Forbidden, somehow. But Abby is mine.