Sammi fancies both Emma and Mike and gets raped, almost.
His hand wrapped around her throat and jerked her head up, forcing her to stare him straight in the face.
"Don't lie to me. Don't omit. Answer me honestly or this deal is off. You may not think I'm a killer, but is that something you really want to test? I'll answer for you: it's not. So tell the fucking truth if you want to leave this bedroom alive. Do you understand?" The thief loosened his grip enough for her to nod and then he released her, though he didn't give her back her personal space. When he crossed his arms, they brushed against her nipples.
"I've thought about it," she managed.
He seemed satisfied by the admission for the moment and stepped around her, setting his foot on the edge of the bed frame and beginning to unlace his combat boot.
"And what did you think, exactly?" he asked, fingers deftly undoing the knots.
Harper rubbed the back of her neck. "I thought that I'm not capable of it. I'm a lot of things, but I'll never be a murderer."
"Only fools think that way." He pulled his boot off and got to work on the other.
Harper watched him warily, conflicting emotions swirling inside of her. On the one hand, he seemed intent to terrify her. On the other, he'd made no move to hurt her. Even when he'd grabbed her by the throat, his touch had been more possessive than threatening.
He tossed away the second boot and straightened. Without the slightest hesitation, he pulled the t-shirt over his head and stood half-naked in front of her. Harper swallowed and tried not to notice the ridges of his abdomen or the tattoo that curled around the left side of his ribs and onto his back.
"You're capable of murder," he said matter-of-factly. "Let's say you'd had a knife in here when we broke in. Would you have killed us or let us live?"
Why was he so intent on drawing the situation out? He could've fucked her three times already and gone on his way. The thought wasn't as horrifying as it should've been, especially given his topic of conversation. "I would have let you live."
The thief snorted and the image of a bull preparing to lunge flashed through her mind. "Then you're a fucking moron," he said dryly. "Let's change the scenario again. You have the knife and I've decided that not only am I going to fuck you, my friends are, too. We're going to fill every hole in your body with come and leave you a sniveling mess. What do you do then? Let us?"
Fear flashed through her, white-hot, bringing her partially back to her senses.
The thief read the emotion on her face and smiled. "You still wouldn't kill us, would you? What would it take?"
"I don't know," she answered honestly.
His smile twisted, became sardonic. "I believe you." He bent and peeled the socks from his feet, throwing them across the floor. When his hands reached for his belt, Harper almost asked him not to go any further. She wanted him to take pity on her, but that would've been as pointless as begging for her life. She'd accepted the surety of her death twenty minutes ago. She could accept this, too-after all, it had been her idea.
Fixing her with another soul-searing gaze, the thief removed his pants and boxers in one swift movement. Harper flushed when his erection bounced free and when he stilled, its considerable length pointed toward her. Her nipples stiffened in response, their bodies trying to connect across the small space separating them.
She couldn't deny her biological reaction to him. Her mouth dried, her stomach fluttered, and she grew instantly wet between the legs. She would've taken a modicum of comfort in the presence of his erection, but she had a feeling he was turned on by their morbid conversation, not the sight of her body. The darkness within him was suddenly a living thing, filling the room, and she understood what his words had really been saying. 'I'm more dangerous than the two other thieves combined. You shouldn't have let yourself be trapped in a room with me.'
Those fears were made all the more obvious when he bent down and slid one of the knives free, holding it delicately in his hand.