Nicky rested her head against the pillow.
He was right. She did need sleep.
She needed to be in her right mind to catch the kidnapper. And tomorrow, Nicky wouldn't waste any time.
Whoever is doing this should be scared,Nicky thought.
Because she was coming for him. And she would take him down.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
He had given her a bed. A dresser. A vanity with a mirror and a brush so she could do her hair and look pretty for him. He had given her everything a woman could ever ask for.
The screen illuminated the dark room, giving him a full view of his bride on the other side. She was sitting at the edge of the bed, her hands clenched into fists and her eyes tightly closed. She was crying bitterly, her tears flowing like a waterfall down her face. She was crying for a freedom that he'd taken from her. It was as if he had ripped her heart out and stomped on it, crushing it beneath his feet.
He hoped once they wed, she would be more grateful for all he'd given her. She could not leave the bedroom--of course not, he knew she would run. He smiled at the screen and leaned closer. He didn't interact with her much when she was awake; their beautiful conversations would be saved for when they were officially married.
Soon, she would give up on her pacing and crying and go to bed. Then, he would get to smell her, touch her, feel her...
He watched the screen as she got under the covers and turned off the lamp. He rose from his chair and left his room, making his way down the hallway to hers. In the darkness of the hallway, he could barely make out the line where the carpet ended, and the hardwood floor began. The floor was cool underneath his bare feet. He could hear the sound of her breathing in his mind, slow and steady and deep. It was like a lullaby. He wanted to hear her breaths for real.
He reached her door. Several locks kept her in, and he unlatched them, one by one.
Inside, the room was dark. The only window was at the top of the room, and it allowed a silvery beam of moonlight to sneak in and illuminate her sleeping form. She was so beautiful.
He could see her chest rising and falling. The thin blanket bunched around her waist, exposing the rest of her body.
His palms began to sweat, and he stepped into the room.
She exhaled, and he froze in place, watching to see if she would wake up. She didn't. He sat at the edge of her bed. Her long hair tickled his arm as he did so. If she was awake, she was not responding to him. But that was okay.
"Shh," he whispered, stroking her hair. He felt her stiffen beneath him.
He smiled and continued to pet her hair. He ran his fingers through it, relishing the softness. He ran his hands over her arms and down them, feeling the thin layer of her nightgown.
She was so warm.
His hand moved to her shoulder, and, then, to her chest.
She continued to breathe, pretending to be unaware of his touch. But he knew she was awake. He knew she could feel him.
He ran his hands over her flat stomach, then her hip, then her thigh.
She didn't move.
He brought his face closer to hers, and he could smell her. It was the most beautiful odor he had ever encountered. Rich and sweet, it made his nose curl up.
He buried his face in her hair and inhaled more of her essence.
It only made her smell sweeter, and she smelled incredible. He breathed her in, as he slipped his hand inside the thin fabric of her nightgown.
She gasped and stiffened, but she stayed put.
The feel of her skin sent him into a frenzy. His fingers moved over her stomach, down her hip, and under her leg. Her thigh was soft and smooth. His fingers brushed against her hipbone, over her ribs, and up to the part of her where the fabric dipped.
She whimpered again. This time, he was sure she was awake.
His hand moved to her neck, and he pushed the blanket away from her shoulders. He moved his hands over her chest, feeling the skin against his fingertips, and he could feel her heart beating against his palm.