Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 671(@200wpm)___ 537(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
I feel a little like I belong to him now.
I didn’t feel that way at all when I said it at Professor DeMarco’s house, I just wanted him to stop torturing me. I would have said anything to get him to stop.
But after the tender way he washed me in the shower, after he fucked me again and this time it didn’t feel like a punishment or even an intended violation.
I don’t know.
My brain is tired, and my emotions are fried. I need to get some sleep, and it turns out he was right: his bed is extremely comfortable.
Aware of my exhaustion, he strokes my hair, kisses my forehead, and says, "You should get some sleep, baby. We can talk in the morning."
My eyes feel heavy, and my body is quiet and still. I feel Silvan’s chest rise and fall beneath my cheek and its strong, steady rhythm further relaxes me.
Part of me doesn’t want to go to sleep because I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but the pull of exhaustion is too strong.
___
My eyes don’t open immediately when I drift out of sleep. I’m too cozy. Warmth has enveloped me from the impossibly comfortable blanket draped over me to the strong arms locked around my body.
That’s a startling realization. I’ve never woken up to a man’s arms locked around me before.
My eyes open a bit reluctantly. I don’t want to leave the blissful warmth of oblivion, and the moment my eyes open to a room I’ve never seen before, the reality of my situation crashes down on me.
Last night, Silvan sorta kidnapped me.
I think I left my purse in the bathroom. Maybe if I could roll out of bed without waking him up, I could go get it. My phone’s inside. I don’t think I want to tell anyone something as dramatic as “I’ve been kidnapped” because I’m truly not out to get Silvan in trouble, but I don’t want to be kept here against my will, either. I want to go home.
I could text my mom or Kendra and ask them to pick me up. Kendra already knows where he lives, so it would probably be easy for her to come get me.
The house is huge, surely if I’m careful, I could sneak out the front door without anyone even noticing.
I shift in his arms, trying to move gently so as not to wake him. It seems like it should be easy since he's sleeping, but his arms don't budge. A frown flickers across my face as I try again and his grip on my waist tightens.
Eyes wide, I turn my head to look back at him over my shoulder and find him looking much like a sleepy Viking with a smirk on his handsome, fully-awake face. "Where do you think you're going?"
My cheeks warm at the sensation of being caught doing something I'm not supposed to—even though I could argue escaping my kidnapper is something I am very much supposed to do.
He’s too crazy to agree with me.
“I have to pee,” I say instead.
"Oh, yeah?" he murmurs, sounding somehow unconvinced even though that's a perfectly natural thing to need to do after a long night's sleep. One hand slides up from my waist. He cups my tit, squeezing softly before his blunt fingertip passes over my nipple. "You're sure you're not just hoping to make a phone call on the cell phone you left in there last night?"
"Of course not," I answer.
"Mm-hmm," he murmurs, less convinced than before.
"That you would assume that just proves you're a psychopath," I state primly. "I was going to text."
He laughs, giving me a squeeze and kissing my exposed shoulder. "I'm not a psychopath," he assures me.
“You’re awfully comfortable with kidnapping for someone who isn’t a psychopath.”
“I’m a man in love,” he states. “Haven’t you heard? All’s fair in love and war.”
“Well, you may be in love, but I’m at war, so does that mean I can play dirty, too?”
“Sure,” he says far too easily. “As long as you’re prepared for the consequences when you lose.” He lets that threat hang in the air for a moment, then he nuzzles his face into my neck. “Personally, I’d much prefer we be on the same team than at war with each other.”
“You say that, but what you mean is you want me to concede to all your wants and desires and just abandon my team for yours.”
“There’s only a ‘your’ team and ‘my’ team because you’re still resisting. Stop that and then it’s our team and we do what’s best for both of us.”
“But I don’t get a choice whether or not I want to be on the team.”
“Correct. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. You should learn to live with it.”
I shake my head. “Then it’s not a team. You have to agree to be on a team.”