6
Monroe
What the hell was I thinking? Why did I lie to him? I should have told him the truth that yes, I’m a fucking virgin. While my high school friends were going on dates and having sex, I spent my teenage years working and taking care of my grandma.
I have no idea what possessed me to lie, but the way he got mad about my possible innocence scared the shit out of me. He keeps saying he won’t kill me, but how can I believe him? What if he is only keeping me alive for sex? That would be more likely than anything else.
All these unanswered questions are giving me a headache, or maybe it’s the crying. I try to rub my forehead, forgetting I’m cuffed to the bed. The metal digs into my skin as I tug on it, causing me to yelp out in pain.Fuck.
Fresh tears fall down my cheek, soaking his crisp white pillow. I hope I at least leave a stain. It’s a ridiculous thought, but somehow it calms me a little. If I leave a stain, he’ll have to wash it, and imagining him doing the laundry makes him seem a little less scary and more… normal.
I’m not sure how long I’m left alone in the bed, but it feels like a long time. I’m exhausted, and my head hurts, but I still can’t go to sleep. My eyes won’t stay closed.
Just as the first morning light filters through the curtains, the door opens, and A's huge form enters the room. I try to sit up as much as I can, feeling a bit safer that way. Of course I know that’s an illusion. I’m not in any less danger.
“Did you not sleep any?”
“It’s a little hard to get comfortable being cuffed to the bed of the person I watched kill two people hours ago.”
Frowning at my answer, he reaches for something in his back pocket, and I immediately regret my mouthing off. A scream builds in my throat, but then I realize he only grabbed the key.
“I’m going to uncuff you, and then we’re both going to lie down and go to sleep,” he tells me while reaching for the cuffs. The click of the lock meets my ear, and then I’m free.
Pulling my arms down, I rub at my shoulders to alleviate the soreness from having been raised for so long. He undresses, and no matter how much I tell myself to look away, my gaze stays glued to him. His body is a work of art—his muscular form covered in ink and scars that tell a story of a savage life.
“I was only going to sleep, but if you keep looking at me like that, we’re going to do more than that,” A warns, and I avert my vision to the ceiling, making him chuckle.
A moment later, the mattress dips, and he moves to lie beside me. I’m still staring at the ceiling when his arm wraps around my body, and he pulls me into his. My back is against his chest, his body wrapped around mine like a blanket. I want to object… should object, but he is so warm, and his skin on mine feels so good.
“Sleep,” he whispers into the shell of my ear, and against all odds, I do.
* * *
I wakeup with something heavy draped over my middle, pushing me down into the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever slept on.
Opening my eyes, I feel nothing but disappointed in myself. Bright light is coming through the window, filling every corner of the room. How could I have slept through the night? In his bed. With him next to me. I’m still shocked that he left me uncuffed during the night, but then again, he is holding on to me like a bear holds a salmon.
Cursing myself, I force my breathing to remain even while I listen intently, trying to figure out if A is still sleeping. When I hear nothing but his heavy breath, I decide to take my chance. Ever so slowly, I wiggle my way out of his arm and off the mattress.
My bare feet make contact with the cool hardwood floor before I sneak a peek over my shoulder. A's eyes are closed, and his face remains lax.
On gentle feet, I start tiptoeing around the room, grabbing my dress and shoes off the floor as I head toward the door. My fingertips graze the metal doorknob when his deep voice booms through the room.
“Going somewhere?”
I pull my hand away from the knob like it suddenly bursts into flames. Spinning around while clutching the dress to my chest, I stare at A’s scowling at me from the bed. Lifting his finger, he motions for me to come back to bed.
Sighing in defeat, I drop my clothes and walk back to the bed with my head hanging low. “You can’t expect me not to try.”
“I expect you not to succeed, for your own sake.”
“You can’t just keep me here.”
“I can, and I will. The pleasantness of your stay with me is entirely up to you, but I can promise you one thing. If you try to leave again, I will kill you.”
I swallow. Hard. He’s not joking. The death glare he gives me right now leaves no room for a misunderstanding. If I don’t listen, he’ll kill me.
“I need money,” I blurt out.