Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
A tiny line forms between her eyebrows as she scowls my way. “I already found that bathroom, thank you. I was worried about you.”
Some of the anger stacked tight in my chest fizzles. “Worried about me?”
She slinks back as if only now realizing how close to danger she might be. “Yes, you came in here last night and never came back out…”
My blood is pounding in my cock, and I squeeze my eyes closed to breathe a moment. I’m in control of my body; it does not control me.
I repeat it several times in my head, then look up at her again. “You should get out. I’ve reached my limit, and it’s not safe for you to be around me right now.”
She retreats to the doorway but lingers. “You don’t scare me, you know.”
Whatever she sees in my face at her statement sends her back another couple of paces. I lean into the wall, resettling despite every position being uncomfortable. “Brave girl to say so when I’m restrained. You feared me a few days ago. Don’t mistake self-preservation for affection. I’d do a lot of things to stay alive.”
Her hand creeps up her chest to her neck, drawing my eyes until it lays flat between her collarbones. The fear still on her face despite her words. “I’m not an idiot. I’d never think you might be capable of something as soft as affection.”
Fuck. Just looking at her is making me harder. But she could be any woman. Any hole to bend over a bed and fuck raw. At least, that is what I’m telling myself. Disgusted by my uncertainty, I narrow my eyes and pin her with a look that has made grown men piss themselves. “Get the hell out, and don’t come back unless I call for you.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t argue. She steps backward and gently closes the door between us.
Something inside me rages at the distance, and not being able to look at her, but it’s for the best. I can’t wrap my head around her. I want to mark her, dig my fingers in so she bears my bruises, my teeth marks, the scent of my body on her skin. All of which might break her after what she’s been through. She’s strong, but my body has been a battleground for days, and I don’t trust myself not to hurt her like this: straddling the line between sanity and psychosis.
I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall. I might lose it completely if these drugs don’t wear off soon.
The scent of cooking food, bacon, maybe, reaches me a few minutes later and ignites another kind of hunger. One that I’m already fighting. Still, I don’t trust myself to leave this room and eat without taking her—claiming her.
I don’t know how much time passes, five minutes, five years, but the door opens again, and she steps into the room. Her face is pink and freshly scrubbed, tendrils of the blond hair around her face darker from the water. But my eyes lock on the tray in her hands. “I said to stay the fuck out of here. Don’t you listen?”
She purses her lips but says nothing, instead creeping closer. Part of me wants to teach her a lesson and make sure she learns not to fucking disobey my orders, but my stomach shames me, letting out a loud gurgle between us. I drop my eyes and glare at the white shower wall beside me. At least long enough to wrestle with the threads of control I have left.
As she comes closer, she rises up onto her tiptoes like she might bolt for the door at my slightest movement. “I brought you something to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry since you haven’t eaten anything since last night.”
I clench my fists on my thighs. “It’s not your job to take care of me. If I want food, I’ll get myself fucking food.”
The look she gives me is all annoyance. “Is that right?” My stomach chooses right then to growl again. “Your stomach disagrees with you. Very loudly, I might add.” I’m close to snapping but somehow manage to keep it together. “Here.” She sets the tray on the floor near my curled knee.
It’s not pride that keeps me from eating. The memory of Arthur, of the guards, forcing their drugged food down my throat rises up, and I can’t force myself to reach out to the tray and eat, no matter how badly I want to.
She clears her throat and swallows loud enough that I can hear it. Which means she’s much closer to me than she should be. “If you’re still having problems. With the drugs. I can help. It doesn’t mean anything. Maybe even just payment for saving me when you saved yourself. Either way, you should let me help you.”