9
There’s something empowering about a man brought to his knees – figuratively of course – by your body. I see it as clear as day, he wants me, and it fucking kills him.
Good.
I hope seeing me tears him apart inside. I hope it turns his gut and forces his heart to pound uncomfortably.
What I’m not prepared for is my own desire burning hot as hell in the pit of my stomach. It’s sick, it’s twisted and yet no matter how hard I try to control it I want him just as badly.
If he’s the monster, what kind of sick fuck does that make me?
The man kidnapped me for heaven’s sake, Istabbedhim and yet my pussy clenches, I grow wet, the lust making my head hazy and the lines between us become blurred.
One little taste wouldn’t hurt, surely. Just a touch, a slight caress.
No.
I won’t do it. He can continue to want me, he can continue to war with himself, but I won’t give him the satisfaction, only for him to put a bullet between my eyes. Because that’s how this is going to end. He hasn’t said the words but I’m not stupid. There’s no way I’m walking out of here with my heart still beating.
It’s sad that my life will end at only twenty-three years old, but I don’t fear the end.
I pluck a towel from the folded pile near the shower and secure it around my body before picking up another to knot around my hair, holding the wet tresses atop my head in a turban. Now covered, his eyes go back to that blank yet slightly amused stare.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Clipped, short and icy.
As I follow him back to my room a plan forms in my mind. The man wants me, that much is obvious and if I can get him close enough, maybe I can use it to my advantage. He carries a gun on him, probably other weapons too I just needed to find them.
I watch his formidable body, the way the muscles move in his back and shoulders, how quickly his legs eat up the space before him. His wicked beauty is unfair, the brutal lines that make up his body means that this little war between us is unbalanced. A monster shouldn’t look that good.
Back in the room, I look towards the bed, the sheets pristine and not the rumpled mess they were before. His housekeeper must have changed them since we had been gone.
“Can I trust you won’t jump out the window if I leave the handcuffs off?”
“That depends,” I shrug, heading towards the window to peer down. Three floors and a straight edge with absolute zero way of climbing down, no guttering or trellises in sight. If I jumped, I’d break both legs if not more.
When I turn back to Alexander he’s grinning, a condescending and smug tilt of his lips. I roll my eyes.
“I won’t be escaping out the window,” I tell him.
“Good.”
He says no more as he turns and heads towards the door, “There’s some clean clothes in the drawers. Help yourself.”
“You know this isn’t how it’s supposed to be,” I call after him, “All this kindness is going to make me believe you have a heart after all.”
“Don’t be fooled, little bird, this isn’t kindness, this is me simply,” he purses his lips and rolls his head side to side as he chews over what words he wants to use, “offering you a little comfort before I have to take that away.”
“So it will end that way then?” I say, keeping him in the room a little longer. When I don’t elaborate, he places his hands in his pockets, arching a brow whilst he waits for me to continue.
I head to the drawers, pulling the top one open to find simple tank tops stashed within. I pluck a black one out and then move to the next drawer, grabbing a pair of sweats that are going to be too large for my frame. I’m short, only five foot three and a hundred and thirty pounds which makes buying clothes that fit me perfectly a hardship.
I get to the bed and then drop my towel.