Our eyes meet. “You think I’m gonna let you have a knife? I wasn’t born yesterday.” He’s snickering when he turns away. I bet he’s an expert at keeping girls tied up. He probably does this on the regular.
At least the sandwich is good. After a tentative bite, my appetite roars to life and I end up scarfing down the rest while he watches, eating his own sandwich, standing at the counter. He offers to brew coffee and I accept gratefully before asking to use the bathroom.
“Of course. Should’ve asked before now.” He unties my ankle and I pray I find something to help me in the bathroom, or that he ties it looser next time. Maybe if I can distract him…
The small bathroom—powder room since there’s no shower or tub—is super clean, which is more of a relief than almost anything else. I can stand a lot of things, but a shit-covered bathroom? The only thing that would make it better would be something in the medicine cabinet that I could use to cut or loosen the rope he’s going to tie me with.
Or even better, something I could use to attack him. I paid attention to the drawer he keeps the knives in. If I can sweet-talk him into letting me walk around the place…
“You okay in there?”
Right. I’m supposed to be taking care of business. I pee, then wash up as best I can in the sink. The food has me feeling more like myself.
Good. Because I’m going to have to work smart to get out of here, and the tiny window in the bathroom isn’t an option.
There’s coffee brewing by the time I’m finished. For a guy who is supposedly in the middle of nowhere, he likes his little luxuries.
“That bagel was awesome,” I say as he leads me to the bed and reaches for the rope. “Where do you get that kind all the way out here? I can’t even get anything like that below central Jersey.”
“I have my methods.” He leaves it there, finishing his knot.
I expect him to stand up, but he stays where he is, crouched beside the bed with his hand on my leg. Our eyes meet. Heat races through me, and I have to wonder why. I’m terrified, with no ID or money, and desperate to return to my friends. This isn’t the time to get wet over my captor, no matter how sexy his scruffy jaw is or how sensuous his lips happen to be.
“Don’t bother trying to get away,” he warns. “I wasn’t lying when I said there’s nothing around for miles. I like it that way. I’d rather deal with snakes and whatever else is out there than with other people. But I know the terrain. You don’t.” He lowers his brow. “It wouldn’t end well.”
There’s that icy finger running down my spine. I wish I knew whether to believe him.
His hand creeps further up my leg, now in kneecap territory. “There are deadly things on this island.” His nostrils flare as his eyes narrow, and the pressure from his fingers increases. “If you think I’m dangerous, step foot outside without me and see how much worse it’ll get.”
I don’t know whether to be more worried about what he’s saying or what he’s doing with his hand. I couldn’t fight him off if I tried. I know that much.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt me.” I glance down at his hand, which is now inching up my thigh, almost sliding under my dress.
“I meant it. So long as you don’t do anything stupid.” He gives my thigh a squeeze—then his hand is gone.
The sick part is the way my heart sinks. Yes, it feels good to be touched right now when adrenaline has flooded me and my pulse is racing, but this is not the guy. He’s the opposite of the guy.
Even if there are still goosebumps up and down my leg.