by Kylie Scott
“You’re crazy.” Roslyn dropped the knife and pushed aside his hands. “How could you do that to me?”
Big hands enclosed her shoulders and drew her in. Violently she shrugged him off and shoved at him. Her palms slapped against his chest so hard they stung. The man actually stumbled back a step, proof of his own obviously addled state. “The chain or the knife?”
“Both.”
“Look at me,” he said quietly. “Please?”
She didn’t want to, but she did. The pull he had on her was horrible. “What?”
“Hey.” He gave her a contrite look, forehead furrowed and eyes full of woe. A spot of blood slid down his neck from the small cut. “I’m sorry I hurt your hand.”
She jerked a shoulder, as close to a shrug as she could manage. Every part of her ached.
“Is it alright?” he asked.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I just said that so you’d cut the crap with the knife.”
“Did you?” The side of his mouth kicked up into a smile and small lines wrinkled beside his eyes. “Huh.”
“You’re an idiot, but I don’t want to kill you.”
“No?” His voice sounded deep and hoarse. It rumbled right through her. “What do you want to do with me?”
She threw her hands wide in exasperation and he grabbed at them. With a growl she stepped back, wrapped her arms tight around herself. “No. I don’t know.”
“But you don’t hate me.”
After everything he’d done to her, she ought to. It was inexcusable that she didn’t hate him with an unholy passion. But she didn’t. Not even a little, just like he’d said.
Shit.
Guilt smothered her. Her eyelids squeezed tight. She shook her head, scowling so hard she could feel a headache coming on. Pain crept up the side of her face and fuzzed up her mind. How perfect, feeling bad for not despising someone. How ridiculous. She’d always tried to be a good person, tried to do the right thing. Falling into a big black hole of negativity never helped anyone, only he drove her insane.
He made to touch her and she shifted back as far as she could, which wasn’t far enough.
“Nick, stop it. You’re giving me a headache.”
His hands grabbed for her again. No way did she want him touching her, but he easily evaded her swats. Fingers curved over her hips and attempted to pull her in, managing to drag her one reluctant step forward.
“Say it,” he demanded.
“Stop.” She opened her eyes and hit out at him. Her bruised knuckles stung and her arms sagged weakly. “Let me go.”
“No.” Nick leaned back, trying to evade her half-assed punches. Then he apparently gave up and got closer instead. He hid his face in her hair and wrapped his arms around her. His breath tickled her neck. She flailed and fussed but he was strong. Strong enough to keep her exactly where he wanted her, as he had shown time and again. His hard arms held her tight, no matter how she squirmed. The prod of his hard cock was blazingly obvious against her belly, pissing her off even worse.
Anger kept the adrenalin pumping. Her whole body felt alive with it, shaky, edgy and wired. Not even remotely under control. She could have spit and raged and cussed him a treat. Then come back for more.
Like with Neil back at the school, she wanted to do this man harm. He’d hurt her. He continued to hurt her. So she should hurt him back. Shouldn’t she?
Nothing seemed clear anymore. She liked knowing her place in the world. How she fit. And she didn’t fit with him, no matter what other parts of her tried to say otherwise. Those thoughts were illusory and artificial. She wouldn’t listen to them.
Nick was totally wrong for her in every goddamn way.
“It’s okay,” he said with his mouth pressed against her ear. “It’s okay, Roslyn. I’m here.”
“I know,” she cried. Everything in her world was so fucked up and wrong she didn’t know where to start. She could have drowned in the self-pity. At least it would have brought it all to an end. “I know you’re here. That’s the problem.”
She could feel him laughing before she heard him, the motion of his chest bumping lightly against hers.
The fucker.
She’d kill him. She’d pick the knife back up and this time she’d…
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nick thought he might be losing it. A brain cell at a time she’d done him in, broken him down. Maybe he should just pick up the knife and hand it back to her. She sure as hell wouldn’t fight him over it a second time. The situation being so fucked, what else could he do but laugh? What a mess. Hysteria may have helped him along. He didn’t feel much in control of himself just then. No one had ever gotten to him like Roslyn did.
Soft hands still pushed at this chest, trying to win free. All the squirming didn’t help things. It felt far too fucking good. He needed to apologize properly. Talk some sense to her and cool the situation off. He’d had no business scaring her that way.
“Roslyn,” he said, trying to calm down the idiotic chuckling. Not good. She’d gotten worked up enough for both of them.
No reaction from her apart from a muffled snarl against his shirt.
“Ros. Stop it.”
Nope. Nothing. This needed to end.
He cupped her face in one hand and made her look at him. Jerkily, she tried to turn away and he fisted her hair at the back of her head, held her still that way.
Aw, shit. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears and her expression tight and tense and awful. Pissed off at him like nothing he’d seen. Never had he made a woman so mad. Her mouth trembled, same as when she thought he’d abandoned her. When she’d thought she would die.
Nick bit back a sigh as true regret slid beneath his skin. He’d done this to her, again. Only he could fix it. Nothing he could say would do, so instead he used his mouth for kissing her. Silently, he apologized. From the tip of her ear to the side of her face, the smooth line of her jaw and the jut of her chin. He must have caught her by surprise because the fists drumming against her chest slowed, lost their steady rhythm.
Roslyn deserved to be kissed, all over and all the time. He didn’t deserve to be the one doing it, but screw it.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
A frown puckered her brow and she tried to twist away again. His hand tightened in her hair and his mouth followed her. He kissed the edge of her lips, so sweet. There’d never been anything like it. She stuttered out a breath and made a tiny noise. It sounded a bit like a distressed hiccup. If only he knew what it meant.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he said.
Nick canted his head and brushed his lips against hers. She stood rigid against him. The fingers tightened in his shirt, nails digging into him through the material. Mysteriously, she didn’t try to stop him.
Impossible to say exactly when she stopped fighting and let him kiss her. When she arched her neck and raised her mouth to him, allowing him closer. Somehow suffering his attentions turned into kissing him back. Instead of denying him, her lips actually sought him out.
Oh, man, bloody amazing. He couldn’t believe it for a moment, but her mouth moved beneath his and it felt fucking perfect. Roslyn kissed him.
He moaned because his tongue was in her mouth and her mouth was heaven. A hot, wet, delicious, hungry heaven he couldn’t get enough of. The taste of her hit him harder than her hands ever could. Floored him first go. If he hadn’t had her to hang onto he’d have been flat on his back.
Her kisses were hard and angry. She pushed back against him, fighting for control. Sharp teeth nipped at his bottom lip and his eyes shot open at the sting of pain. When had he closed them? He’d meant to watch her. He’d gotten so wrapped up in kissing her he’d lost touch with everything else. His bottom lip throbbed almost as hard as his cock.
The woman had bitten him good. But then, she rarely did things halfway. He had a scar on his forehead to prove it.
Ros stood gulping in air, stunned. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide. Of course, he w
asn’t faring any better. They just stood there staring at each other, panting. The sound of their heavy breathing filled the place. It easily drowned out the noise of the rain drumming on the roof.
She’d actually kissed him back. The fact bounced round and round inside his head. God, her lips looked tasty. Swollen and pink and waiting right there for him.
Fuck it. He covered her velvet-soft mouth with his own and kissed her some more. Lost himself in her, never wanting it to end.
Her elbows bumped him as she wound her arms around his neck. The woman clung to him. Left no doubt in his mind she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. That she accepted him, thank God. The burning in him made it hard to think, though. The lack of blood to his brain as his dick tried to push a path straight through his jeans to her.
Action stations. He had to have her, right now.
His hands stroked over her back and kneaded her ass cheeks. She in turn rubbed herself against him in the best way, stirring him up even further. Acting like she couldn’t get close enough. It was time for her to lose the jeans. His fingers dealt with the button and tore down the zip. Not breaking the kiss for a fucking moment. Mouths remained pressed tight together. He pushed the jeans over her hips, taking her panties along with them. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Down her thighs and past her knees.
Smooth, warm skin met his hands. The odd goosebump, too, but he got that. Their mouths finally separated as he ducked to go lower and her eyelids fluttered open. Her pupils were huge.
“Quick,” she said and he nodded, understanding completely.
Her hands gripped his shoulders. He stripped her jeans down her legs and off her one free foot. Good enough. No more waiting.
“Nick,” she whispered.
“I know.” He stood and undid his jeans, shoved them down past his cock. “Come on.”
She stepped into him and he took her hands, wound them back around his neck before she could go for his dick. Later she could play to her heart’s content, but right now he had plans.
Actually, just the one.
He slipped his hand between her legs while kissing her once more, because the thought of not having her mouth on him was out of the question. She widened her stance and let him feel her. Soft, wet and fantastically hot flesh met his fingers. Bloody hell. He cupped her pussy with his hand and she writhed against his fingers. Sexiest fucking thing ever.
Without a doubt she was ready for him. Her hot, wet cunt and the way she tugged on his neck like she wanted him to pick her up. And she could have anything she wanted. He would live and die to make her happy. Do absolutely anything.
“Now,” she groaned.
Nick put his hands beneath the curve of her ass and lifted. Roslyn’s legs went around his waist. He turned so he could set her back against the smooth wooden pantry door. The feel of his hard cock sliding against her pussy had him seeing stars and discovering God or something. She felt divine.
Her breath hit his ear in warm little puffs and her arms wrapped tighter around him. Cut off his airflow a little, but who cared. He lifted her high enough to guide the head of his cock to her and she took him. Sank down on him slowly, engulfing him in the tight clasp of her body.
A long, breathy moan left her and his legs shook.
Yes. Fuck yes.
He withdrew and thrust back into her. And again. And then they were off, with the hard and fast drive of his body into hers and the sound of flesh slapping. He couldn’t seem to slow, to go easy, when he knew he should. Knew without a doubt he should, but his hands were filled with her gorgeous rear and her body trembled against him. He fucked her like a man possessed and she took it. Spurred him on by panting and moaning in his ear. Sweat slicked their skin and the scent of sex hung heavy in the air.
Nothing had ever felt this right. This necessary.
Fast, hard and perfect, with the cupboard door knocking out a protest every time he thrust into her and the chain jangling.
Her heels dug into his ass and her fingernails sunk into his skin. She said his name like it was a curse. He loved it. Her head lolled back against the cupboard door. She was close. She was whimpering and he couldn’t hold out much longer the way his balls were climbing up into his body. He shifted the angle slightly. Enough to ensure he was raking over her clit on each withdrawal. A strangled noise filled his ear and her pussy clamped down on him. There we go. No chance of holding out. No control, but then there never had been.
Not with her. Not possible.
He came and came. Fingers clutching at her, half scared he’d drop her or something. He growled through gritted teeth and clung onto her like she was the only thing left.
Like she was everything.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Roslyn lay wide awake, staring into space and watching the flickering light of the candles on the wall.
She’d had sex with Nick. Rough, raw, animal sex.
It had shaken her tiny world apart, blown it to smithereens.
Thank God she was still on birth control. Neither of them had stopped to think of donning a condom. She was never so careless. Never. But then, she’d never had sex like that. Mind-blowing sex. Fucking.
No excuse.
She’d come so hard. Her body still hummed, satiated and pumped full of happy hormones. They weren’t doing their job, though, not even a little. She was miserable. Her chest felt hot and hard, her eyes itchy, ready to explode into tears at a moment’s notice.
How could she?
She’d had sex with Nick and there was no excuse. There were no gray areas. You didn’t fuck the man who kept you captive. What kind of woman did that? Fell for her abductor. No, damn it, it was so wrong she couldn’t comprehend it. It filled her with disgust and covered her in self-loathing.
Sure as hell, it couldn’t happen again.
He was asleep against her back with an arm thrown over her waist. For a long time he’d toyed with her fingers, stroked her arm. Neither of them had said a word. Complete silence, apart from the occasional pop and sizzle of the wood in the pot-belly stove. Even the rain had stopped a while back.
It was mid-afternoon. Hard to tell exactly with the cabin all closed up. The scent of him seemed to be reaching out to her, trying to tantalize or comfort or something. The want to close her eyes and breathe him in deep horrified her. She hated herself for how she wanted him. For giving in to him. He’d never let her go now. She’d never be free to make her own choices ever again and it was all her own weak-willed fault. Somehow, he’d disarmed her, which meant her armor was made of flimsy stuff indeed.
She shifted and the chain clinked, reminding her of its presence. He’d said the key was in his back pocket. His jeans were on the kitchen floor. He’d stripped off fully after sex and undressed her as much as possible without taking off the chain. If only he’d taken it off her. Maybe then she’d have felt differently.
She sucked in a deep breath and held it as her mind reeled. The key. She could escape. She had to. To stay locked up like this was out of the question. She had to get out.
And if he woke she’d say she was going to the toilet or something.
Yeah. Great. All set. Bloody hell.
She could do this. First she eased a little way across the mattress and rolled gradually onto her back. No rush. Nice and easy. Now she could see him. Eyes closed, and his breathing deep and even. Some strange frisson went through her at the sight of him: fine, firm lips and straight nose, the hollows in his cheeks. It hurt to look at him. This situation wasn’t tenable. Nobody could live like this.
He looked different fast asleep. Unguarded. She’d never seen him like this before. Her anger evaporated. It had fortified her for so long that its absence left a gaping hole. He looked so alone in the bed without her. The sight of him hurt her heart. People always talked about sex making them feel closer to someone. In all honesty, she’d never felt that before today. The connection had never seemed especially profound, not until Nick. How fucking unfair.
But she couldn’t s
tay.
Roslyn shut her eyes and gathered her reserves. Slowly she extricated herself. Every rustle of the sheets and clank of the chain seemed magnified tenfold. He didn’t stir. First one foot touched the ground, then the second. Her body slid out from beneath his hand and she sat up, then stood.
Her knickers and jeans were caught on the chain. She pulled them back over her foot and up her leg. Inserted her other leg and drew them over her hips. Between her thighs was wet and swollen. Sore from what they’d done and how hard they’d done it. It had to have been eight or nine months since anyone had touched her there, and he wasn’t small. There’d been few preliminaries—not that she’d wanted any. She’d been insane with need for him. She’d been insane, full stop.
Now wasn’t the time to think about it.
She crept toward the kitchen. If he woke she was getting a bottle of water, nothing more. The chain sounded so damn loud. Her fingers curled into fists. The metal links clattered and crashed but he slept on. It would be okay. She’d steal the Golden Goose and get gone.
His jeans lay forgotten on the floor. She slipped her hand into one of the back pockets. Nothing. Had he been lying? But the other pocket … yes, success. Cool metal met her fingers. Excitement beat through her. This was it.
Please don’t wake up.
The key slid into the lock and it snicked open. She slid the links of chain free and set them down quietly. Almost didn’t recognize her ankle without its restraint. There were a couple of red marks on her skin and a small gray bruise above her heel.
Roslyn scrambled into her T-shirt then rose slowly to her feet. Her bra was AWOL and she would have to go barefoot. She didn’t dare open the cupboard to search for shoes. But she tucked his Swiss Army knife into her pocket, just in case.
Fast asleep, Nick looked almost sweet and innocent. Candlelight softened his features. The blankets were bunched up at his waist, leaving his top half exposed. Such a beautiful body; it was awe-inspiring. And she didn’t know if she loved him or hated him, but she knew she had to go. The ache inside her expanded and pushed at her ribs. So much pressure that she might implode. This whole situation was so wrong it warped her little mind.