by James, Gemma
“Not yet. She’s still testing me.”
Jax laughed. “That ain’t gonna change either.” He pulled a bowl down from the cupboard, followed by a box of cereal only suitable for kids, though even that was questionable. “Whatcha going into town for?”
“Milk,” I said, nodding toward the near-empty jug he pulled out of the fridge.
“That all?” He glanced up, a mirthful light in his brown eyes as he poured the last of the milk over his sugary cereal.
I shrugged. “And maybe a jewelry store.”
“So you’re really gonna do this wedding thing.”
“I am.”
“What about Zach?”
“What about him?”
Jax carried his breakfast to the other side of the bar and perched on a stool. “I think you’re taking a risk, man.”
“What am I supposed to do? Hide out here forever?”
“That’s not what I meant. I just think a wedding is a distraction you don’t need right now.”
“I’m not stupid, Jax. I’ll hire security if I have to.”
“Maybe you should hire someone to find his ass.”
“Already thought about it, especially once we go back to the island.” Which wouldn’t be much longer. I’d hired an out-of-area contractor to add my more questionable touches to the cabin. He’d informed me yesterday he was close to finishing the job. “I’m done running. If Zach wants to come after us, I’ll be ready this time.”
“You’re not worried her old man will be an issue?”
“I’m worried about all kinds of shit, but marrying her will add a layer of protection. Once I’m her husband, legally, he’ll have no say over her life.”
“Okay,” he said with a nod.
“Okay?” I asked, my tone dubious.
“Let’s get you hitched.”
It felt good to have him onboard, but first I needed a ring, and I had the perfect one in mind. A unique piece I’d found online at an exclusive jewelry shop, the stone a deep jade to match her eyes.
22. UNWORTHY OF WHITE
Alex
I needed out of this hell.
It wasn’t a want at this point. I needed fucking freedom like I needed air. I was sick of these four walls—so tired of staring at them that I would have doodled to my heart’s content if I had art supplies. But they remained a boring, crazy-inducing white, and they seemed to close in more with each new sunrise.
Rafe was relentless in making sure I knew my place. My stint in solitary confinement went on for days.
Days upon days of waiting for him to let me go.
He hadn’t fucked me since the day he caught me touching myself. It was his way of reminding me that his cock was a privilege, same as cuddling in the warm circle of his arms at night. I hated this new punishing sentence, but it did open an opportunity, because that’s when I got the idea to fake a period by flushing tampons and the accompanying cardboard applicators down the toilet. But I left the outer packaging in the trashcan where he could see it. He made the deception easy, and that only made me feel worse.
I didn’t like lying to him, but I feared what he might do if he found out now.
God, I needed the fuck out of here.
A bird landed on a branch outside the window, and I would have given anything to trade places with that little creature.
Even for an hour. Just let me fly away.
Back facing the bedroom door, I heard him enter, but I didn’t turn around. Keeping my gaze on my friend the bird—my only connection to the outer world right now—I crossed my arms and ignored Rafe’s presence.
“You’re gonna have to talk to me eventually, babe.”
As far as I was concerned, I didn’t have to do shit. Not until he made me, anyway.
Something clunked on the nightstand, and ceramic slid across smooth wood. A plate, no doubt my lunch.
“Enough is enough, Alex. I’ve allowed your silence for the last 24 hours. If you don’t start talking, I’m bringing in the ginger.”
I whirled and shot him a scowl. “Let me go.” I lifted my chained ankle, and the racket of the links clinking together sent a shudder through me. If I never heard the sound of chains again, I’d be happy.
“I’ll let you out of here when I’m good and ready.” He closed the distance between us, stalking me like a predator. The instant I caught a hint of his heat, my arms flopped to my sides in surrender. My nipples grew taut, giving Rafe a tempting peek through the curls flowing over my shoulders.
“You’re making me want you,” he said with a groan, his eyes hungry and greedy. I licked my lips, and the fullness of my breasts made me hornier than ever.
“Then take me.”
God, he looked tempted. He had to be going mad, too. He’d fucked my mouth a couple of times, but we hadn’t gone this long without sex since he’d come back to me six months after faking his death.
How ironic that we were both good at faking shit. My pretend period ended yesterday. I was beyond ready to jump his bones if he’d let me.
Instead of giving in, he turned away, causing my spirit to plummet.
I shuffled my feet, and the ever-present rub of denim against my pussy ignited an inferno between my legs. “What do I have to do to get out of here?”
He stalled at the end of the bed, and my heart skipped a beat. Finally. He was going to do something.
Kiss me.
Fuck me.
Let me go.
All of the above.
He glanced at me from over his shoulder, and I deflated at the resolution in his eyes. “Angel is coming in to go over some wedding options, so eat up.” On his way out the door, he gestured toward the plate he’d brought in.
Letting go of my last ray of hope for parole, I settled onto the bed and dug into the turkey sandwich he’d made me. I’d been ravenous lately, and a little nauseous. I tried convincing myself the nausea came from eating too much, which led to blaming my new eating habits on boredom.
I didn’t believe my own lie though.
With the continued absence of Aunt Flow, it was pretty obvious what was going on. Even so, I still chose to bury my head in the sand.
The door swung open, and I looked up from the last two bites of my sandwich. Angel stood in the doorway, eyes downcast in uncertainty. She clutched a magazine in her hands. I glanced over her shoulder, starved for the sight of Rafe, but he wasn’t there.
I wanted to hold on to my fury. It had gotten me through days and days of loneliness, of missing him so fiercely that my chest literally ached. My armor of anger was fading, and I was scared of what might sprout up in its place.
Desolation.
Madness.
Psychosis.
Angel broke through my brain fog by taking a small step over the threshold. All too conscious of my topless state, I made sure my hair covered my breasts before patting a spot next to me on the bed. “You can come in.”
She closed the door and settled on the mattress, and I nodded toward the magazine. “Is that for me?”
“Yes. He wants you to pick a dress.” She opened the glossy cover and ran her hand over a picture of a redhead wearing a satin wedding gown. As the pads of Angel’s fingers glided over the page, as if she could feel the smooth texture of the luxurious material, I leaned forward to get a better look.
“That one’s pretty.”
She handed me the magazine, gaze lowering to my tits as she passed it from her hands to mine. I felt my nipples harden under her scrutiny, and I didn’t have to glance down to know they were poking through my curls.
She cupped my left breast, fingers a torturous tease on my nipple as she moved my hair out of the way. I inhaled a surprised breath.
“They’re so perfect.” As if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, she uncovered the other side. “He doesn’t beat you there?” Her blue eyes raised to mine, wide with unspoken questions.
I gulped, thrown off-guard by her actions. “Um…he has a few times.” I paused, nibbling on my l
ip, trying to figure out the best way to explain. “But I enjoy the pain.” Most of the time, anyway.
She tilted her head until her blond locks hid her face. “I’m not pretty. Master liked to draw blood.”
I hadn’t gawked at her the day she’d stripped bare in Jax’s room, but I vaguely recalled the scars on her breasts. And then there were the more noticeable ones on her arms and legs. I lifted my arm and held it out for her to see.
“I have scars too.”
She peeked at me from the corner of her eye, and the long, jagged mark on the inside of my forearm caught her attention. She ran a finger up my arm, the pad of her fingertip examining the ugly scar left behind from the time I’d slashed my wrists.
“What happened?”
I turned my arm over and displayed the marks from years of digging my nails into my skin. “I did this to myself.”
She blinked several times. “But…why?”
“I’ve been hurt, too. This is the way I dealt with it.”
“By hurting yourself?”
“I used to. Rafe doesn’t let me do it anymore.”
“He’s very protective of you.” Her tone lifted with a note of approval as if he’d managed to win her over in my absence.
“He’s a little too protective,” I said. “That’s why I’ve been stuck in this room. He says I have a self-destructive streak.”
I hated to admit it, but he was right. No one could beat on me as much as I beat on myself.
Tense silence followed, so I turned to the magazine as an ice-breaker. “Guess I should pick one, huh?” As I turned the pages, she watched in silence, never giving her opinion unless I asked for it.
“I don’t like the sleeves. What do you think?”
She shrugged. “It’s a summer wedding. You’re probably right to go strapless.”
“How about this one?” I pointed to a strapless gown with a ruffled skirt.
“I like the top.”
Another flip of the page, and my heart jumped. This dress was also strapless, but the skirt flowed rather than puffed out. I fell in love with the lace pattern and beadwork on the bottom half of the gown. It was understated, classy, the bodice cut in a way to add the perfect hint of cleavage for someone with my modest bust size.
There was only one problem, and it was one I’d noticed from the moment I opened the magazine. Most of these were only available in white, and the designs that had a hint of color, or an accent hue weren’t the right fit for me.
“I like that one,” Angel said as Rafe opened the door.
I snapped the magazine shut. He wasn’t supposed to see my wedding dress. Was I supposed to give him a model number or something? I looked to Angel for help, but she’d already left my side. At the sight of Rafe, she skedaddled from the room before I could utter a “thanks” or “goodbye.”
“Find something you like?” Rafe asked.
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean? If you don’t like them, I can find another magazine. Whatever you want, babe. I want your dress to be perfect.”
I set the magazine aside. “Most of these wedding gowns are…a bit traditional.”
He furrowed his brows. “You don’t want traditional?”
“It’s not that.” I thumbed through the pages at my side with a frown. “I just never saw myself in white.”
“Why not?” He sat next to me, mattress sinking under his muscular body.
“White means pure.” I met his eyes. “Innocent. I’m neither of those things.”
“Your innocence was stolen.” Voice gruff with emotion, he slid his palm along my cheek. “You didn’t squander it away, Alex. If you want to wear white, then I want to see you in white.”
“Then I know which dress I want.”
“You can write down the info later.” He slid his palm down my shackled leg, his touch almost reverent.
I held my breath, suspended in hope as he brought his fingers to my ankle and worked at the lock.
“What are you doing?”
“You’ve been cooped up too long.” He left my side and opened the naughty drawer before pulling out a coil of silky-looking rope. He flicked his gaze to my face, and there was no mistaking the ardent glint in his green eyes. “Go for a walk with me.”
23. JADED AND TWITTERPATED
Alex
We were a long way from civilization.
It was times like these, when Rafe had me naked and bound to a tree, my ass facing outward, that I missed the allure of a normal life. But even if we hadn’t been living off the grid, I wasn’t sure we’d recognize normalcy if it smacked us in the face.
I shifted my weight to my left foot. My limbs were growing tired. I was beyond antsy, and I was nervous as fuck because Rafe hadn’t spoken a word to me since he’d brought me to this spot on the riverbank. He hadn’t punished me yet either. But I was certain it was coming. Why else would he have me strapped to a fucking tree? I shifted again, and the rough bark of the huge trunk chafed my nipples. This was torture, and not in a purely bad way.
Footsteps sounded, followed by the snap of a twig. I jumped, my breath catching in my lungs as he wrapped his hand around my throat, fingers flexing before releasing me. The trapped breath swooshed out in relief.
Twigs, belts, sticks…they were all dangerous in Rafe’s hands. His hands though…they were the most lethal of all, especially when he held my vulnerable neck captive in his grip. And that’s why it was a risk not to tell him I was late. If I was pregnant, then his fetish of erotic asphyxiation could be dangerous.
But my entire being railed at the thought of telling him. It would only cause stress between us for something that might be a false alarm. I needed us to get back to where we were before I’d taken off in the middle of the night and sent Rafe spiraling toward the darkness that shadowed him. God, I missed him in so many ways.
His body next to mine at night, arms sheltering me.
The simple things, like preparing meals together or playing cards to pass the time.
The gravelly sound of his voice in my ear, telling me to come for him.
I inched my thighs together at the thought, despising myself for the warmth flooding my sex. He stepped back, and the switch hissed through the air an instant before it connected with my backside in a way that caressed more than hurt.
“Legs open, sweetheart.”
With a nervous gulp, I opened my thighs and planted my feet firmly on the ground. “I’m sorry,” I said, ignoring a pebble that bit into my heel.
“What are you sorry for?”
I wondered if the term pissing him off would suffice as an answer. Probably not. “For taking off on you the way I did.”
He teased my needy slit with the switch. “You’re not in trouble anymore, but I think you want to be tied to this tree. You’re getting wetter the longer you stand here.”
He was right, and I hated myself for it.
“Are you hoping for my cock?”
I moaned, practically foaming at the mouth from withdrawal. “God, yes.”
“Fucking hell, I love that answer.” He grabbed me by the hips and brought my ass against his groin.
No buildup.
No foreplay.
We were both too on-edge and desperate.
He entered me with the speed and force of a man on the brink of madness. It had been mere days since he’d been inside of me, but he took me against that tree as if a lifetime had passed, without mercy, his movements as rough as the bark scraping my skin. With every pillaging plunge, he let out hoarse grunts.
Pressing into my back, he planted a hand against the tree and reached around to rub light circles my clit.
“More,” I breathed.
“Like this?” He increased the pressure of his touch.
“Oooh, fuck!” I shrilled. “If you stop, I’ll fucking kill you.”
“No need for death threats. My hand isn’t going anywhere.”
Closing my eyes, I lost myself to his groans, to the way he claimed
me, to the expert circles of his thumb on my clit. Bodies slapping together, he pounded me from behind, and we both lost our minds in the midst of our primal coupling.
We rutted like fucking animals against that tree.
My chest heaved, and I gritted my teeth as the pressure built between my thighs. “Rafe?”
He answered with a grunt, teeth latching onto my earlobe, breath hot against my neck.
God, it had been so long. I was about to burst. “Let me come,” I pleaded.
“Let you? Fuck, if you don’t, I might lose my fucking mind.”
That was all I needed. Permission. The green light to take that dive into ecstasy without consequence. I plummeted then soared in spectacular abandon. A powerful shudder ripped through me as I cried out his name.
He came seconds later, his teeth sinking into my shoulder and smothering a series of grunts and cries.
“Damn,” he rasped. “I’ve missed that sound.”
We stood like that for a while, me against the tree, his body plastered to my back as we caught our breaths. In the back of my mind, I acknowledged the sight we’d be if anyone came upon us. With our bodies still joined, his skin hot on mine, his breaths slowly leveling out to match my shallow ones, I couldn’t bring myself to care about getting caught.
This moment was too euphoric, but beyond that, it signaled a return to our fucked up normal.
After a while, he disentangled his body from mine and began untying the elaborate knots that restrained me. The rope dropped to the ground, and I held up my hands so he could free my wrists.
His eyes caught and held mine as he rubbed my sore, rope-chafed skin. Taking hold of my left hand, he kneeled and pressed his lips to my belly, gracing each inked letter of his name with a kiss.
“You’re everything to me, Alex. I hope you know that.”
Something about the way he gazed at me, with a seriousness darkening his irises, sent my heart into a somersault.
“I know that.”
“I put you through hell.”
I had nothing to say to that. It was true, but I was still exactly where I wanted to be.
“And the worst part, babe? I’d do it again. You know I would.”