CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Vivia
I carrya towel and my soap with me to the water’s edge, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to ignore the pain in my throat, determined to make the most of this situation. He hasn’t proven the jailer I expected, not at all. We’re almost… friendly.
Almost.
He might turn discipline into foreplay and I freely admit I enjoy that, but I’m also not dumb enough to pretend there isn’t an element of very real punishment in his actions. If I were to defy him… really, truly defy him, like try to escape or refuse to obey, I know in my heart he’d be treating me very differently.
But when he loops his arm over me when we fall asleep… when he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, or brings me a plate of food… when I catch him watching me when I wake or when I sit by the fire… I imagine I’m something more than a job to him.
We make it to the shore. He strips off his tee, revealing his tanned, masculine back, and tosses it far from the water. When he lifts the fishing rod he found in the cabin, I turn away. I do not enjoy the hook and bait part of things.
And it’s time for me to take back what little control I have, anyway. I know I’m at a decided disadvantage as his prisoner, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take a roll of the die myself.
I step to the white sand shore. Water laps at my feet, surprisingly warm. We’ve had a bit of a warm spell, and the shallow water here in the little inlet where he fishes reflects that. Last night, we took a long bath, both of us, and I scrubbed every inch of my body and washed my hair. Today, I just need a good shave.
And he can fucking watch me.
I stand with my feet in the water and reach for my tee. Lift it over my naval, close my eyes, and go for broke. Tug it over my head and toss it behind me without looking at him. When the rest of my clothes except my panties follow, he makes a sort of strangled sound. I ignore him. I’d take the panties off, but I’m not interested in sitting bare-assed on the rock so I can shave. But those will come off, too.
“You gonna shave?” he asks. His voice is rougher and deeper than usual. He’s following right along with me.
I nod, still not looking at him.
“I’d step over to the fresh water then.”
Damn, he’s right. I don’t make eye contact but look to where he points to a small, shallow body of water.
“That’s fresh?”
“Yeah. Tested it yesterday. Doesn’t come from the ocean but from the stream in the woods, and it’s running water so it’s crystal clear.”
“Why thank you, kind sir,” I say, turning away and walking nearly stark naked past him, distinctly aware of his gaze following every movement.
Beside me, I hear the swish and splash of his fishing rod to my left. I step over and find a clean, bare rock. Sit on the edge with my back to him, lean over, and scoop warm water over my legs.
When my legs are damp, I uncap the shaving cream and lather them up good. I make sure to position my leg so that he can see all of me, my bare legs, my back, my ass… everything. I take my time shaving. It feels so damn luxurious. After the rustic living arrangements we’ve had here, this feels like nothing short of pure luxury. I sigh contentedly and ignore the grunts he’s making.
One leg down, I rinse it, careful not to get the shaving lotion into the water. I lift my second leg, turn to give him another sidelong view, and shave from my calf to the top of my thigh. When I’m finished, I stand and remove my panties, place my razor beside the lotion, and begin to lather up between my legs.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he growls. At first, I ignore him. I begin shaving.
“Vivia,” he snaps.
“Mmm?”
“I asked what the fuck are you doing.”
“Thought it was obvious. Shaving.”
“Don’t you dare shave your pussy bare.” I raise my eyebrows and finally bring my gaze to him. The fishing rod lays on the ground beside him, forgotten, and his fists are planted at his sides.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
He’s bending in the fresh water in front of me, washing his hands. Thoroughly. That’s my only warning.