Chapter 6 - Ruslana
I sit against the headboard, holding my cuffed wrist in my other hand and glaring at the back of his head—then down the thick muscular curve of his neck, over his sculpted back—I am trying to set him on fire with my eyes. I am trying to laser giant holes straight through him and make him burn to ashes. I want to tear him to pieces. How can he just be lying there so calmly—going to sleep? How does he expect me to go to sleep now after what just happened—after everything? Today is such a disaster.
I’m so angry with him.
How did he manage not to fall for my tactics? That’s what I really don’t understand. I always get what I want when I flutter my eyelashes and put on that alluring smile. It always works. In fact, I can’t remember a single time when it didn’t work.
How is he immune to my charm? Is he not interested in women ? That might be it. Although, I did see the way his eyes traced over me. I know he was attracted to me—he just somehow managed to control it all.
My charms always work .
I huff loudly, hoping that I am annoying him and keeping him awake.
I can’t sleep now.
I’m so wired and high on adrenalin.
I’m so angry. Wanting revenge. Wanting to escape.
And— I still have my hairpin. Oh my fuck.
I should stop being so annoying and let him fall asleep. When he does, I can pick this lock and get the hell out of here.
I carefully pull the pin from where I tucked it into my bra. Pressing it between my fingers together, I stare at him. Waiting. Impatient.
I’m as quiet as a mouse and not moving at all.
I wait, counting the minutes, watching him closely.
After what feels like forever, I start to believe that he has to be asleep.
He is very still, breathing evenly, but I can’t tell for sure.
I guess it will have to do. The risk is worth the reward.
I can’t sit here all night.
I slip the pin into the handcuff keyhole and start moving it around in the same way I did with the bedroom door.
It feels different, but I think all locks must feel different from each other—it doesn’t mean it isn’t going to work.
I keep wiggling, moving, twisting—I don’t feel any mechanisms moving inside, though.
Keep going, Ruslana. Keep trying. It’s just a different kind of lock. It still has a key which means it has to be the same as all the other locks. If you can pick the door—you can pick the handcuffs.
An hour goes by and my wrists are both screaming in pain.
I’ve lost all sense of hope and I want to cry.
One wrist is hurting because I have to twist my arm to reach the lock—the other is hurting because I have been moving this damn pin none stop for far too long. I stop, flexing my wrist and rubbing my fingers beneath the cuff a little to try and massage away the ache. This is a nightmare.
It isn’t working. This lock is—it’s useless to keep trying.
I sigh, fighting tears and frustration. Exhaustion is blurring my vision, my body feels heavy. I can barely keep my eyes open at this point.
Reluctantly, I tuck the hairpin back into my bra, maybe I’ll try again tomorrow when I’m feeling a little better.
I shift lower in the bed to wiggle beneath the blankets. I’m cold, I’m tired and I’m hungry.
All of the adrenalin has worn off and I’ve drained myself trying to pick this stupid lock.
I can feel the heat of his body near mine and I try to shift further away from him. I don’t want to be next to him.
In his sleep, he has rolled onto his back and his arm is tucked behind his head, his face is calm and pointed in my direction, his eyes are closed.
I don’t like how fucking good-looking he is, and I want to hate him—nothing else. I don’t want to be lying here admiring the shape of his muscles and his dark wavy hair, chiseled jaw and the perfectly shadowed stubble of his beard that only accentuates the line of his face even more.
He looks powerful, seductively so, he looks like he can get any woman he wants. Maybe that’s why my charm didn’t work on him. He’s used to women throwing themselves at him.
Agitation runs through me, leaving me with a sense of rejection, which is ridiculous, because why the hell should I care if he is attracted to me or not? He kidnapped me. He’s a monster.
Ugh .
I’m annoying myself just looking at him.
I’m overtired and not thinking clearly. That’s the only reason I’m thinking about how sexy he is.
Rolling onto my side, the only way I can get comfortable and not have my sights on him, because I’m cuffed to the bedpost—I close my eyes.
Thoughts of my family spill into my mind.
I feel terrible for what I know I’m putting them through.
By now, they’ve found out I’m missing, and they must be furious.
This is all my fault.
They will be so worried, frantic and searching.
I’m the reason they feel like shit right now.
I’m causing them so much stress—and wasting their time. If only I had listened.
Tears run silently over my cheeks and soak into the pillow.
Tomorrow is a whole new day. I will find a way out of here.
I take a slow breath, doing my best to relax. It’s going to be ok.
Sleep finds me a lot easier than I expect it to. My body easily letting go and drifting off because it’s been through so much today.
***
In the morning, the room is bright and feels cozy and warm. But I am awake and alert and fully aware of where I am as soon as I open my eyes.
I turn very slowly towards him to see if he’s awake yet—and he isn’t.
Yes .
This is brilliant.
Because last night, just before I fell asleep, somewhere between dreams and reality, I realize that he must have the key in one of his pockets.
I just have to find it.
Which can’t be too hard—right?
He’s still sleeping on his back with one arm tucked above his head.
He looks very deep in sleep.
I need to do this now.
I have to ignore the thick being of fear pulsing through me and just go for it. What do I have to lose anyway? Worst case scenario—he wakes up and catches me. So what? It can’t get any worse than being cuffed to a bed.
I wiggle closer to him, the warmth of his skin and the scent of his body distracting me for a moment.
Beneath the blanket, I reach out and run my hand over his very muscular thigh, then up towards his hip, feeling for his pocket. My hand brushes too close to his cock and I freeze for a moment.
He doesn’t move.
I slip my fingers into his pocket and feel around. There is no key in this pocket. Dammit. It would have been too easy. Nothing is ever that easy.
I regather my determination and start again.
Slowly, holding my breath, I reach across his body to the pocket furthest from me. I have to be so careful not to let my weight rest on his body or move too much to wake him up.
I slip my hand into that pocket and slide my fingers slowly around. It feels oddly intimate.
And in his sleep, he is responding to my touch. He might not be consciously aware of me, but his body is. With my arm reached across him, I can feel his cock getting harder.
Dammit, this was not part of my plan.
My cheeks are glowing red and hot, terrified he will wake up.
I’m going to die of embarrassment.
No, stop getting distracted. Find the damn key.
I slide my hand out of the pocket and try to see if I can reach further around into his back pocket. Maybe I can wiggle my hand beneath his body.
I scream when his hand clamps around my wrist.
He growls, low and dark and moves quickly, rolling onto me, pinning me against the mattress with my back pressing into it.
My eyes feel wide with fright, my mouth is open, I’m dizzy with shock.
I am locked down in exactly the same way I was locked beneath Royce yesterday and my heartbeat flies into a panic.
No, focus, don’t cry, don’t freak out. I plead with myself. I’m strong. I can handle anything.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” he snarls at me, his face inches from mine.
My entire body is betraying me as his thick muscles ripple while he holds me down.
My eyes trace over his shadowed jawline and onto his lips. I feel heat building between my legs as desire begins to flood through me. The fear is quickly being replaced with lust.
Then my mind springs into gear.
If I’m feeling it—surely he is too—and I can use that.
I can use it against him.
His eyes are piercing into me when I reach up with my free hand and brush my fingers along his jaw. Then I grab his face, lift my mouth towards his and lock my lips against his. The kiss is fierce and passionate but seductively smooth. I know what I’m doing with this kiss. It feels right. He won’t be able to resist me this time.
I spread my legs wide and wrap them around his waist, pushing my hips upwards.
While I am kissing him, I run my hand down his back, over the curves and valleys of his beautifully defined muscles.
His hand wraps around the back of my neck, pulling my face harder against his, deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue into my mouth. I moan against his lips.
His cock is hard, pressing into me, driving me a little wild. I’m dangerously close to slipping over the edge and losing control of this situation.
I dip my hand into his back pocket, grabbing his ass as though I am caressing it.
There is no key in there either—how the hell am I going to reach the other pocket with my handcuffed to the fucking bedpost?
I gasp, forgetting what I was trying to achieve when his hands begin to explore my body. He grips my waist, his touch sending bolts of electricity shooting through me. I rock my hips up towards his pulsing cock, but this time it wasn’t to tease him—it was because I am very quickly losing control.
My skin is on fire, desperate for more of his touch. Desperate to feel every inch of him thrusting into me.
He knots his hand in my hair and yanks my head back, exposing my neck and running his hot tongue over my skin. I moan loudly, trying to remind myself that I’m searching for—looking—I need—key—I need the key—
My breathing is heavy, and my chest is heaving against him. I have never been this turned on in my entire life. My nipples are pressing hard against my top, tingling and sensitive.
His hand wraps around my thigh and pulls my legs further apart as he rocks himself against my pussy. I can feel everything.
His body against mine. His tongue. His hands.
My skirt is up around my hips and my thin panties are not protecting me from any of this.
I want him.
I claw my nails into his back. The key is the furthest thing from my thoughts at this point.
I am fully willing and ready to do whatever the hell he wants right now.
He grabs my top and pulls it up, exposing my breasts.
I gasp again when his lips wrap around my nipple and his tongue darts over my sensitive skin.