Nowshewas here all alone with no one to protect her.
If Rylla treated her the same way Mila had treated her then she could very well die here.
But her sister wouldn’t do that. Rylla wasn't selfish, no matter what their problems were Mila knew without a shadow of a doubt that her sister would find her. The only questions was if she would find her alive or dead.
Her foot and leg began to cramp so badly she felt nauseous. Although she tried to hold it in, tried to breathe through the pain and pretend she was someplace else, it didn't do any good. Her stomach heaved and she vomited. She retched again and again until she was dry heaving, her empty stomach having nothing left to expel.
“Have you learned your lesson yet?”
She knew the rules.
The man had insisted that she read them while he tended to her hands, so she knew what was expected of her. He didn't want her to speak to him unless he gave her permission. He didn't want her to look at him unless he gave her permission. He didn't want her to doanythingwithout his permission.
So, ignoring the spasms of pure agony in her legs, she clamped her lips together and focused her eyes on the floor.
“You may speak.” He came closer and stood beside her. His tone was pleased, proud even, and Mila felt a little flush of pleasure at having pleased him. She quickly stopped herself. Following the rules to keep herself alive was one thing, but she couldn’t let him break her. She didn't want him to be pleased with her, she didn't care how he felt about her one way or the other, she just wanted to keep him from hurting her.
“I have learned my lesson,” she whispered.
“And you will stop trying to escape?”
“Yes. Please unlock me, my legs hurt so badly,” she whimpered.
“Are you telling me what to do?” he demanded, his tone reverting to angry.
“No,” she answered quickly. How angry with her was he? Was he leaving her here longer? She didn't think she could take that, either physically or mentally. “I'm sorry,” she begged. “I'm sorry.”
“Okay,” he said gently, his hand smoothing her hair in comfort. “It’s okay.”
She heard him take out a key and she breathed out a sigh of relief. He was going to unlock her binds. Her legs quivered, and she had to fight to remain standing.
“I will give you a bath,” he informed her as he unlocked the cuff securing her to the wall.
Mila wanted to protest that she could bathe on her own, but she was afraid that would upset him. As the tension keeping her on her feet disappeared, she pitched forward, straight into the man’s arms, which he wrapped around her. Her muscles still cramped, and she couldn’t stand, leaving her with no choice but to remain in the arms of her captor. Balancing her, he unlocked and removed the handcuffs and the mitts, then gathered her into his arms and carried her to the bathroom.
When he set her down on the closed toilet seat, Mila had to fight the urge to clamber away from him as quickly as her aching body could manage. That would make him angry. He wanted someone who was subservient, obedient, completely compliant. If she wanted to live she had to take on that role.
The man drew her a bath, and once he had adjusted the temperature, he pulled off his shirt—now smeared with her vomit—while he waited for it to fill.
Her brow furrowed. That chest was familiar. She had seen it somewhere before. Did she know this man? Not SC who she had thought she was falling in love with, but whoever this man really was.
With the bath full, he turned toward her, taking hold of the hem of her dress and lifting it up and over her head and off her body. Although she tried not to resist, afraid it would anger him, Mila couldn’t help but lift her hands to cover her now bare breasts. She didn't want this man looking at her. He looked at her as if he owned her, as if she was his possession.
Picking her up he set her down in the bath. It scared her how easily he could pick her up and move her about. He was so big, so strong, how could she fight against that?
The warm bath water did soothe her aching leg muscles, and for a moment she almost didn't notice the man pouring shampoo into the palm of his hand, but when his hands moved to her head, and he began to wash her hair every molecule in her body focused in on that one spot.
Keeping her gaze fixed on the wall, she spoke softly, “My sister is a cop. She’ll be looking for me. She might be angry with you when she finds me.” Maybe if she phrased it in such a way that made it sound like her fears were for him and not that she wanted to get away from him, she could keep him from being too angry but also put the idea in his head that maybe it was better to just let her go.
Although she feared his tone would be sharp with a reprimand when he spoke, his voice was calm. “She won't find us, you’re safe here.”
“She’s a very good cop. She’s smart, and strong, and determined. She takes her job very seriously. She loves to help people. She won't stop looking for me. Ever.” Her sister really was such a great person, why hadn’t she worked harder to bridge the gap between them?
“Don’t fear, I won't let anyone take you from me. Not even your sister.” The man’s voice grew husky as his hands drifted from massaging her scalp down to her shoulders. He kneaded them briefly before moving to her chest where his hands found her breasts. In her sex life, Mila had always loved when a man paid attention to her breasts, it was usually enough to make her come without him having to even touch her anywhere else. But this, this was the most revolting feeling she had ever had. She didn't want this man’s hands on her body.
She wanted to swat him away, to scream at him that she wasn't his and she never would be. It was only the fear that he would shove her head under the water and keep it there until water flooded her lungs and she drowned that kept her mouth shut.
His hands didn't play with her breasts for long. They traveled down her stomach, then glided up her back to her neck. His fingers were long and strong, and he was clearly well-versed with a woman’s body, he knew just how much pressure to apply and all the right places to hit. If this was a date and not an abduction she would be reveling in every single move of his talented hands. He picked up each foot and washed it, then slowly made his way up her legs. She knew it was coming. In her head she counted the seconds. When his hands finally dipped between her legs her whole body clenched involuntarily.