Twenty-Three Gemma #2
I sucked in a breath, aware I’d poked a predator who might not have sharp teeth or claws but could devour me all the same.
I felt a small pang of guilt. I’d gleaned enough to know his past was not a pretty one.
He’d survived something I couldn’t begin to imagine.
Yet his life was not my life, and my life was currently in jeopardy because of him.
Keeping eye contact, I let truth slip into my murmur, “Not from where I’m standing.”
He flinched, then tossed me a savage sneer. “If you’re so aware of what I can do to you, then perhaps you should do what I say.” Throwing me the bag holding my spare clothes, he snarled, “Get dressed.”
Clutching the bag, I didn’t let it go. “What happened last night?”
“What?” His eyes jerked to mine. “I fucked you. Twice. You came. Twice. That’s all—”
“Still determined not to acknowledge it, huh?” Standing on my knees, I let the blanket fall away, revealing every inch of me. Dried mud, pebbled nipples, and a stupid core that never seemed to stop wanting him.
He sucked in a breath as I crawled awkwardly through the remains of our Jeep picnic and swung my legs off the edge of the tailgate.
My heart raced as that undeniable attraction once again infected us with madness as I dropped to the ground and stood nude before him.
He hissed low in his chest as I looked down, locking onto his rapidly hardening cock.
Last night...God, last night.
I shivered as fragments of thunder, lightning, thrusting, and coming all rained down on me. When he’d taken me against my will, I should’ve been appalled. I should’ve vowed to end his life the moment I had the chance. Instead, I’d spread my legs like a hussy and let him take everything.
I’d barely been able to breathe after I’d come. Barely able to think. And then, he’d gone and scooped me up, positioned me gently against the side of the Jeep, placed a fresh water bottle in my hands, a new Snickers bar, and cupped my cheeks with his large calloused fingers.
And he’d just held me.
Held me as if I’d crushed his heart, smashed his world, and set fire to all the ruins.
We were silent.
Still.
Suffering.
His cock had been wet from my orgasm, his tip still oozing with his. The night had thickened until the entire world seemed to hold its breath. Waiting for...something. Waiting for our games to end and fate to set us free.
I’d waited for him to kiss me.
To tumble off the ledge he’d shoved me off and shatter at the bottom beside me.
I waited and wanted and wished harder than I had for anything.
But then, the moment was over, and he’d swallowed hard, pulling away as if it physically hurt him to sit in the dark, wordless and full of warning.
“Offering yourself to me again so soon, Gemma Ashford?” he murmured, stepping into me, grazing my nipples with his heated chest.
We shuddered in equal measure.
Fire sprung between us, tiny flames licking across our skin and slithering through our ribs to our messed-up hearts.
My eyes struggled to focus as I drowned in his dark stare. Even in the sunlight, I couldn’t tell what color his gaze was. Not black, not brown, not dark blue or green. They were colorless in their shadows.
His hand came up and cupped my breast, rolling my nipple with talented fingers. “Get dressed before I string you to a tree and feast.”
I did my best to hide how he affected me. “I can’t dress.” Raising my bound wrists, I smiled coldly. “Not unless you untie me.”
He cocked his head, dropping his hand from my breast and taking a step back. “There won’t be a day in your future that you won’t be tethered to me. I suggest you get used to it.”
“Then I suggest you get used to waiting on me hand and foot, seeing as I won’t be able to do a single thing for myself.”
Plucking the dangling rope, he pulled the leash so I tripped into him. “If anyone is going to be the slave in this scenario, it’s you.” His eyes glittered with something unreadable. “And don’t worry. Tying your wrists is just a temporary measure. I have something far more suitable back home.”
Anger swelled within me. Anger at myself and him. I’d let sex cloud my mind. I’d allowed softness given in sleep and slivers of kindness in the dark to conveniently forget our dynamics had not changed.
He still intended on keeping me a prisoner.
I still intended to escape.
And no matter how skilled I thought I was at seduction, I hadn’t been successful at changing his mind.
With sudden swiftness, he pushed me to the side, grabbed the bag of spare clothes, and yanked out a pair of merlot-colored leggings.
Bending, he grabbed my left foot and shoved them up my leg, then repeated with my right.
He pulled them up matter-of-factly as if he’d dressed another once upon a time.
Not saying a word, he fumbled at the knot holding my hands together and unwound the rope just long enough to shove my arms into a T-shirt with my local climbing gym’s logo on the breasts, then drape me in a gray windbreaker.
I’d be too hot, but at least I was covered.
With biting fingers, he pulled my wrists back together, wrapped the rope, knotted my imprisonment, and pushed me away.
He didn’t even bother watching me to see if I’d stay put, too focused on leaving camp immediately. With hurried hands, he tipped out my backpack containing my backup laptop, extra video recorder, and spare hard drive.
“Hey!” I darted forward. “Be gentle with that.”
“You won’t be needing it.” Elbowing me away, he scooped up the rest of the chocolate, candy, packet pastas, and water bottles and stuffed them into the bag. With a glower, he hoisted the stash onto his bare shoulders, fisted the rope keeping me prisoner, then dragged me away from my Jeep.
Away from my freedom.
Away from any hope of seeing my family and house again.