Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
AVA
The words on the page continued to stare at me as my mind drifted again to Emerson.
An entire day. He had spent the entire day with me.
Not guarding me or torturing me, but playing in the sand and talking with me.
I couldn’t think of a day that had been any better except the day my uncle had rescued me.
And when we’d tired of the beach, we’d spent the rest of the day watching terrible movies and munching on popcorn he made Pack get from the closest movie theater.
I would have felt bad, but Pack joined us for one of the movies before my clearly irritating habit of guessing the plot twists annoyed him too much.
Falling asleep on the couch had not been my intention, but the hours on the beach had left me drowsy and before I knew it, I was alone on the couch and night had fallen.
After Breaker led me back to my room, I opted for a long hot shower where the constant warmth in my belly at the thought of Emerson had me pretending my hands were his and hoping the shower muted my resulting moan.
There was no other place to touch myself for fear of someone walking in on me.
And now, book in hand, my thoughts were still on him.
The shower time had not helped in any way.
If anything, it had me craving the real thing even more.
Groaning, I rested my head back and put the book over my eyes.
This was horrible. I had orgasmed to the image of the man who had kidnapped me, and now I couldn't stop thinking about him.
As if that was something new. An obsession had developed from the moment I laid eyes on him.
The sound of the men dying behind me that first night returned, and I corrected that obsession to the next morning.
No infatuation had developed on that first night.
Only fear…that had dissipated the moment his blue eyes softened, and he spoke to me.
I returned to reading, forcing myself to focus and angry at myself for falling asleep earlier. When I was two chapters from finishing my book, there was a quick rap on my door, and Emerson’s head peeked in.
“Knocking now? My status has improved if knocks have entered my world.”
He gave me a smirk that erased any pleasure I’d had earlier and left me longing for more.
“Still awake, huh?” he asked, stepping in and looking around like he was in a room he’d never seen before.
“Yes,” I said, hopping up from the bed. “And yes.”
His brow raised when he noticed I was in his T-shirt again. I couldn’t help it. The smell reminded me of him.
“What’s the second yes for?” he asked as I handed him my book. His brow arched higher.
“Yes, I’d love to come keep you company because I can’t sleep either.”
I dug through the stash of books Jill had sent me, realizing too late that my ass was hanging out when I bent down.
Swiveling, I caught the lick of his lips, the flare of desire in his eyes.
This was so bad. I had just assumed he’d come to take me back to his room.
And I wanted him to because I didn’t like my empty bed now that he’d slept with me the last few nights.
Ridiculous, I knew, but I had never been one to heed rational thoughts.
“Where did all those books come from?”
“Jill. Well, I guess you bought them for me, and she picked them up.” I dropped the second book into his hand. “Thanks, I really love them. The boring mystery Pack brought me was dull without the smut.”
“The smut?” he mouthed before he shook his head. “Why are you assuming I’m here to take you to my bed…to sleep…”
I reached up and closed his mouth, giving him a smile. “Because I just know.”
“Well, what if I’m not?” It was cute seeing a deadly mafia boss struggle for words like a nervous teenage boy.
I crossed my arms, daring him to tell me I was wrong. “Am I wrong?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, no you’re not.
” His eyes dropped to the floor, and I could see the fight there.
It was the same that I continued to have, the same that told me this wasn’t right, but argued that it felt too right to ignore.
“I can’t sleep and just in case your medicine doesn’t work, it makes sense to have you with me. ”
An excuse but one I latched onto because it gave me a reason to ignore the voice in the back of my mind screaming that this man had taken me from my home, my friends, my family.
“Oh, yeah. That’s a good point,” I said, lying because I knew I’d be fine tonight. He rubbed the back of his neck and again I couldn’t equate this man to the ruthless killer I knew him to be. “Don’t want to take a chance.”
I walked to the door and opened it the rest of the way. “Should I lead?” I asked.
He snickered. “I thought you already were,” he said, as if the timid man he’d been moments before was no more. “Why am I carrying two books?” he asked as he followed me out.
Another of my regular guards was on duty and his eyes darted between us until Emerson barked, “Patrol the north side with Johnson.”
“Yes, boss.”
I kept walking, knowing the route and surprised that he let me continue to lead. His steps were heavy behind me, his presence like a blanket on a chilly night. It slipped over me in an embrace I couldn’t deny.
Running up the steps to his room, I continued my path to my side of the bed, noting how the other side was disturbed.
The side he had told me was one he didn’t prefer, but he’d taken it tonight.
Perhaps out of habit or maybe some awareness that he would eventually collect me and I would fill that space.
I settled in and he stood over me, a perplexed slant to his eyebrows. “Don’t get any ideas. This is to keep your mouth shut so you don’t wake all of Seagate with your screams.”
He handed me a book, but I shook my head and pointed to the other in his hand. His eyes drew in more.
“I have two chapters left in that one, so I need them both.”
A roll of his eyes and the book was in my hands. He thumped to his side of the bed, leaving on his sweats and T-shirt.
“If you didn’t want me here, why bring me?” I asked, flipping to my chapter.
“I didn’t say that,” he grumbled, picking up his phone.
My sight moved to him, but he avoided looking at me.
“So you did want me here? And it wasn’t just because of my night terrors?”
“Read, Ava.”
“Hmm.”
He lowered his phone and finally looked at me. A wish, simple yet convoluted. To have him kiss me, to have his hands on my skin, his body against mine.
“Hmm, what?” he asked, disturbing my reckless thoughts.
“Nothing.” I went back to my book, sinking some into the bed to get comfortable. I sensed his eyes on me, but I didn’t turn back to him. The heaviness of that stare disappeared, and he returned to his phone.
We sat together, me reading while he worked or whatever he did on his phone.
A comfortable silence sat between us, the sense that this was a natural thing for us.
Two people who barely knew each other, whose circumstance was complicated and twisted, but who somehow needed each other even when they couldn’t say it.
Because I knew from the moods that crossed his navy irises and from my own slow descent into madness that we were heading to something neither of us could avoid.
I woke the next morning, my book laid open on the bedside table and the blankets pulled up over me.
No memory of falling asleep, which told me I had drifted off while reading and Emerson had moved my book.
The nightmares hadn’t come, and I had slept peacefully.
Too peacefully, only waking once when his arm slid around my waist.
Sitting up, I stretched and realized I wasn’t in my room.
He had left me in his, which seemed like madness considering I was his prisoner.
Was this an opening to change things? I chewed my lip.
No, because if it were, he would send me home.
The air fled my lungs as an unexpected melancholy overcame me.
As much as I wanted to be back home to my apartment, to Uncle Den and Riley, to work and school, it would mean not seeing Emerson.
And that thought stung. I rubbed my chest, trying to fight off the sensation.
It made no sense, but the ache was there, too prominent to ignore.
Shoving it away, I used the bathroom, thinking it looked too tidy.
My bathroom at home was a mess of makeup and hair ties, lotions and body scrubs.
Candles and bath bombs. Even the one I was using here was already a mess.
This was like a blank slate—clear countertops, neatly hung towels.
The only evidence it wasn’t a showroom was the towel hung at the back of the walk-in shower.
Normally, showers weren’t that exciting to me, but this one was too fascinating not to look.
It was massive, big enough for multiple people, and I stepped back out as the thought of him with another woman in it crossed my mind.
The envy that leeched into my veins seemed inappropriate, but it was there, too irritating to ignore.
I considered taking my books back to my room but left them, like a mark that I had been there and might return.
After peeking into his closet, which was nearly the size of my apartment, and running my hands absently over the plethora of suit jackets and pressed dress shirts, I denied my urge to sniff them for his scent.
On my way out, something caught my eye, a bit of gray silk peeking from a drawer.
Thinking it looked familiar, I opened the drawer.
Amid the extensive collection of expensive watches and cufflinks was the scarf I’d worn the night he kidnapped me.
I didn’t know what to think of the warmth the sight caused in my chest or the fact that he’d kept a piece of me like a treasure.
Quickly closing the drawer, I gave in to the urge and brought one of his shirts to my nose, breathing in his scent before heading downstairs.