10. KIm
10
KIM
Kim
I know immediately that I’m not in the same place I was. For one, the bed underneath me feels different. Two, I’m lying in a completely different position than I fell asleep in. And three, I can just sense it, before I even open my eyes. Something is not right.
When I open them, I try to keep myself calm. I am indeed in a different room, and judging by the look of it, I don’t think I’m even at the hotel anymore.
This terrifies me for so many reasons, the biggest ones being, how did I get here, and how long was I unconscious for?
I slowly sit up, every muscle in my body screaming as I do so. My body isn’t used to this level of inactivity, nor is it used to barely eating or drinking for this long. I feel physically sick, and not just because of the situation I’m in.
The room I’m in is dark. I look around for a window, spotting one across the room with its curtains drawn shut. Standing up, I walk towards it, ignoring the pain I feel with each step. Once there, I pull back the curtains.
Outside, it’s completely pitch black. I remember falling asleep some time in the afternoon, so either a few hours passed… or over a day. For my sanity, I choose to believe the former.
“Where the fuck am I?” I whisper.
I’m not in the city anymore. The sprawling estate outside proves that.
A new surge of anxiety hits me as I realize that, and I back away from the window. My breath is coming fast, my eyes searching all around the room.
The only thing keeping me from having a full-blown panic attack is the fact that the room is absolutely gorgeous – and empty except for me. Everything about it is perfect, and for some reason that has a sort of claiming effect on me. I suppose if I was in some grimy dungeon somewhere, I’d be freaking out a lot more.
The bed is huge, even bigger than the one back at the hotel. It has white lace curtains hanging around it, exactly like I’d imagine a princess’s room to have. In fact, the whole room looks royal.
I sit on the white ottoman at the end of the bed, forcing myself to stop marveling over the décor. I’ve been kidnapped. Sam Warwick has kidnapped me.
My hand flies to my mouth as I hold back tears. I don’t want to get hysterical. I want to stay as calm as possible. If something happens, I don’t want tears clouding my vision. I want to be clear minded and ready.
The door across the room opens with no warning, making me jump up.
“Don’t come any closer,” I say, stumbling back towards the window without turning around.
He closes the door behind him and walks further in, a curious expression on his face. He says nothing as he stops a few feet away from me.
“Please, just stay right there. Don’t come closer,” I repeat.
He lifts a brow at me. “Why?”
My mouth falls open, and I find myself at a loss for words. But it doesn’t take long for me to find them.
“Why? Because you’re a psychopath. You kidnapped me and you…” I trail off as he steps closer.
“And I what?” he asks, taking another step.
I shake my head, and he grins at me. He’s amused by this. This both pisses me off and scares me.
“You…” I trail off again, unsure of what I’m trying to say. The closer he gets, the more the thoughts seem to just disappear from my head.
“Finish your sentence.”
I want to disobey. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of me doing what he says. But the tone in his voice, and the look in his eyes... they promise things that I’m not sure I want to know.
“You drugged me. And then you brought me here. I don’t even know what day it is or how we got here or anything.” My voice breaks off at the end, and a tear slips out of my eye unexpectedly.
Sam finally closes the distance between us, swiping the tear away. He lets his hand linger on the side of my face. I have no choice but to meet his gaze.
“I gave you a sedative so that this would be easier on you. It’s been about five hours since I brought you here. And I drove you here in my car.”
There’s silence between us as I stare at his dark eyes. He dips his head lower and leans in.
I’m frozen to the spot as his hand trails from my cheek, down to my neck. My hands start to tremble at my sides, and my heart pounds impossibly fast in my chest.
Sam’s mouth hovers in front of mine, while his hand takes hold of my neck. I close my eyes in an attempt to clear my head.
As soon as they’re shut, I feel his lips skim mine, and I immediately kick into action. My right hand connects with his face, and before he can react, I slip around him. The door is closed across the room, but I didn’t see him lock it, so I should be able to get out.
I’m yanked back as an arm comes around my waist, a yelp escaping me as I slam back against his chest.
“You’re not such an angel after all, huh? Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he asks, his lips brushing my ear. There’s a soft laugh to his words, like he is entertained by me.
I don’t answer him, mostly because I don’t know how to. My heart is slamming in my chest, my mind muffled. And…And I fucking love the way he feels against me for some reason unknown to me. What the actual fuck?
No words are coming to mind, much less coming out. Lucky for me, he doesn’t seem to care about the answer.
“How do you like your new room? I tried to tailor it to your tastes. The bedsheets are the same color as the ones in your old room. They’re much nicer though.”
Just when I think this can’t get any worse, he says something like that. If he knows what color my bed sheets are, then that means he’s been in my apartment.
How many times was he there? What did he do when he was there? What if I had run into him? I have a million questions, but I don’t want any of them answered.
He flips me around so that I’m looking at him, and I swear his eyes look brighter. More of a light grey than the almost black shade I’m used to seeing.
“You’ve surprised me, my little dancer. I-”
This time, I bring my knee up, attempting to knee him in the groin. I swing my fist at him again at the same time. But neither of them connect.
I underestimate how much taller he is than me, so my knee doesn’t go up high enough. As for my fist- it stops a few inches from his face as he catches it in his palm.
“See, this is what I’m talking about.” But there’s a grin pulling at his lips.
“Please,” I whisper.
He backs us up until my knees hit the back of the bed, and then pushes me back gently so that I’m forced to fall onto the mattress. Hovering only inches above me, he brings his lips to my ear.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be ready for me soon. I can be patient.”
There’s something else brewing inside of me, and it’s not fear. I try to ignore it, but as his hand makes its way down my body, over my breasts, and down my stomach, the feeling only heightens.
His hand skates between my legs, just barely touching me. A gasp escapes me, eliciting a dark chuckle out of Sam. He locks eyes with me, and all I see in them is that same amusement.
Before I can even try to push him off of me, he stands up and walks towards the door. I hear it open and close, but I don’t look to make sure he’s really gone. I just stare at the ceiling, my mind spinning.
A hot tear rolls down my cheek. I’ve never felt so frustrated, scared, and confused in my life. And that something is still there, tightening in my core.
An hour later, I finally move, but not very far. I crawl up the bed and wrap the comforter around me, which is surprisingly soft and just the right amount of cold against my skin.
I drift off pretty quickly. I suppose my mind is just that eager for the escape from this mess.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t get that. Even in my sleep, I see his face. Hear his deep, rumbling voice.
“Are you ready for me yet?”
His fingers graze one of my nipples. I suck in a breath at the touch. Sam smirks, clearly enjoying my reaction.
He grasps my nipple and pinches hard, before rolling it back and forth in between his fingers. His other hand dives between my legs. Two fingers slide down until he reaches my entrance.
“I think you are, my little dancer. You’re practically dripping for me.”
I shake my head at him, but at the same time, he slips those two fingers into me, making me gasp, ending my defiance early.
Sam leans in and nips at my earlobe. I close my eyes, hating myself for every second of this. But the darkness only makes it worse, so I open them again, staring at the white ceiling above.
“I’d say you’re about this close to begging for me,” he purrs, holding up the same two fingers that were just inside of me.
“No,” I manage to whisper.
“Yes,” he whispers back. “Now open wide.”
I stare at his fingers as they get closer and closer to my mouth, my wetness shining on them. I clench my mouth shut, but he grabs my jaw with his free hand and forces it open.
No. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.
I gaps, my eyes flying open. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. I sit myself up, looking around the room.
“It was a dream,” I whisper to myself. But that doesn’t help. In fact, that makes it worse. My own brain made that up on its own. What is that supposed to mean? What am I supposed to do with that information?
The window across the room shows a little bit of light coming from outside. No doubt, the sun is beginning to rise.
I bring my knees to my chest and look around. Sam is nowhere to be seen, but for some reason, I feel like he’s watching me.
And maybe a small part of me doesn’t find that as scary as it should.