Either fate was unthinkable. She needed to seize this rare moment when he seemed kindly disposed toward her, the whiskey further lowering his guard.
Girding her courage, she dared, “Perhaps I could give you a massage, Sir? I could use some of that massage oil you keep in the bathroom.”
He turned to regard her with a quizzical smile as he searched her face.
Callie did her best to keep her expression submissive and subservient, with a touch of the coquette thrown in. She looked up at him through her lashes, pursing her lips in what she hoped was a sexy pout. “If that would please you, Sir.”
She held her breath, her life hanging in the balance as she waited for his response.
“That’s not a bad idea,” he responded. “Go get the massage oil. Oh, and bring a large towel.”
Yes!
Hope and terror collided in Callie’s gut. Was she out of her mind? Was she really going to try this?
There was no choice. This was her best hope—her last chance.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied softly, hoping she sounded calm, though her heart was hurtling at a hundred miles an hour. “Right away.”
Callie rolled from the bed and made her way back to the bathroom. Avoiding her image in the mirror as she always did these days, she grabbed the bottle of oil from the bathtub ledge, along with a large bath towel.
When she returned to the bedroom, Damon was lying on his back, hands behind his head, legs casually crossed. The ever-present gold chain hung around his neck, the keys to her freedom resting against his smooth, muscular chest. He gestured with his head toward the mattress beside him. “Spread out the towel so we don’t get oil on the sheets.”
Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god. This will never work. It has to work. It’ll never work. Shut up. It has to. You will do this thing, or die trying.
Praying her face didn’t betray the turmoil going on in her brain, Callie set down the bottle of oil on the night stand. She smoothed out the large towel on the bed beside Damon. He rolled lazily over onto it so he was lying on his stomach, his head cradled in his arms, his eyes fixed on her.
“Bring it on,” he said.
Her eyes fixed on the trio of keys resting on their chain against the mattress just beside his head. What luck they were visible, instead of trapped between his chest and the mattress. Was it a sign from the universe that she had to seize this chance? Did she dare…?
Forcing herself to focus, she squirted a small amount of oil into her palm and rubbed her hands together. Leaning up beside him, she pressed her fingers into the small of his back, kneading gently but firmly.
“You can press harder. It feels good.”
She obliged, adding a little more oil as she moved her hands slowly up his back. Her own body was rigid with tension as she feverishly went over and over the details of her insane plan. Slowly, she inched her hands up his back. When she got to his shoulders, he sighed with pleasure, his eyelids fluttering closed.
“Hmmm,” he murmured. “That’s nice. You’re turning into a good little slave. Too bad I can’t keep you forever.”
Callie’s heart thudded painfully as she moved her fingers to his neck, her eyes glued to those keys. Taking a breath, she blurted the words she’d been silently practicing for the past twenty minutes.
“Excuse me, Sir. I don’t want to get your beautiful gold chain oily while I work on your neck. Did you want to remove it during the massage?”
She held her breath, every ounce of her being willing him to agree.
“Nah,” he replied breezily. “It’ll be fine.”
His words were like a sucker punch to the gut. Tears filled her eyes as her spirits plummeted down to her toes.
She forced herself to continue the massage, her mind reeling.
“Too bad I can’t keep you forever.”
For all she knew, tonight might be her last night alive. She had to come up with another plan. She just had to.
Damon yawned noisily and then stilled again, his breathing perceptibly slowing. “That single malt packs a punch,” he murmured, slurring his words.
The whiskey. The massage. His evident fatigue. He seemed to be drifting off to sleep! This was the first time he hadn’t cuffed her and forced her to the bottom of the mattress before settling in for the night.
Hope ballooned once more inside her. Maybe, just maybe, she could resurrect her plan.
Trying to contain her rising excitement, Callie refocused on kneading the taut muscles beneath his supple flesh until they loosened, yielding to her caress. Gradually, she lightened her touch, gently stroking his oiled skin until a small snore issued from his parted lips.
Heart leaping, she willed herself to remain calm. She continued a light massage for another several minutes. When she was certain he was in a deep sleep, she slowly, carefully lifted the chain just enough to get a grip on the clasp. With trembling fingers, she somehow managed to get it open.