The deep ridges of Dexter’s chiseled cheeks indent when he struggles to stifle a grin. “You’re worried about me?”
I shouldn’t nod, but I do. He wouldn’t have gotten in anywhere near as much trouble the past six weeks if he wasn’t always protecting me. By sheltering me under his umbrella, he placed himself in direct sight of the law—the law being the men and women in this facility who are more deranged than the patients they’re guarding.
My agreeing nod pleases Dexter. I’m glad. Men are less evil when they’re happy.
“Can you untie me?”
The demand in his voice turns my nod into a shake.
“Oh, come on, Claudia. If you’re truly worried about me, how can you not help me?” His deep snarl warns me to remain cautious, but the way he purrs my name makes my insides gooey. “I won’t hurt you; I just want to make sure no one else does. Especially not the person you saw in the article last month.”
I peer at him in shock.He knows about Nick’s fiancée and the horrible things she did to me?
Spotting my scrunched brows, Dexter pledges, “I can stop the injustice, Claudia. I just need you to untie me first.”
Hesitantly, I pace closer to him, wanting to verify if his twinkling eyes belong to a devious man or an honest one.
It’s a woeful waste of time.
An in-depth glance at his massively dilated gaze doesn’t alleviate my curiosity in the slightest. He has beautiful oceanic eyes that promise to immensely reward obedience, but they are also full of hate and deceit.
I want to trust him, but when you’ve been hurt time and time again by those you love, it’s not an easy thing to do. It is the equivalent of reaching into a beehive and hoping not to get stung. I might live in a mental hospital, but I’m not stupid.Well, I wasn’t before doctors made my brain gooey.
“Please, Claudia.” Dexter jangles the leather cuffs pinching his wrists and ankles, amplifying his plea. “I won’t hurt you. You can trust me.”
After a short stint of deliberation, I set to work on freeing him. It is the least I can do after all the help he has given me.
It is also reminds me why I can’t trust anyone.
The instant the final cuff is removed from Dexter’s ankle, he snatches my wrist, drags me onto his bed, then flattens me like a pancake with his fit, sweat-slicked body. A torrent of horrible thoughts bombard me when his hand creeps up to clamp my shrieking mouth, including images of my daddy’s hands testing the strength of my lungs when his meal wasn’t served at precisely 6 PM. They’re followed by memories of the stench of his breath hitting my face when I did the same thing to him years later, but for several minutes longer. Then, finally, the visual a thousand days hasn’t stripped from my mind: the big, masculine hand of a man my love sent in his place because he was too angry to look at me. He was the man who placed me into psychiatric care, the one who locked me away until I pay for my sins.
He said it wasn’t my fault and that he was sorry for what he had done. I accepted his apology as I could see the remorse in his eyes. He wasn’t hurting me because he hated me like my daddy did. He was being forced against his wishes, as I am now.
I won’t go down without a fight this time. It’s been years since I last saw Nick, but I’m confident our love is still strong. He hears my whispered promises floating through the air, the pledges of celibacy and atonement. He is waiting for me. He just hasn’t worked through his anger just yet. That is why he stood next toherin the magazine article—smiling and acting happy. It was a façade to hide his pain. I hurt him, but one day, I’ll make it up to him.One day soon, I hope.
My wailing softens when Dexter whispers, “Shh, Claudia. I won’t hurt you. I just need you to be quiet.” The angry snarl of his voice doesn’t match the sincerity of his words. “Once the guards leave, I’ll remove my hand from your mouth, but you need to be quiet, okay? If you yell, we’ll both be in trouble. You don’t want us to get in trouble, do you?”
It is stupid for me to do, but I shake my head. If his eyes weren’t locked on mine, I wouldn’t have, but something in his eyes makes me reckless. . . and I’m not going to mention the funny sensation zapping through my body from being squashed by him. Although his weight is kept off me by his elbows, the lower regions of our bodies are touching.
“Good girl,” Dexter praises when he notices my attempts to remain quiet.
When he slings his eyes to the door, I mimic his movements. My heart rate I’ve just settled breaks into a canter when the shadows of two guards darken the frosted glass of Dexter’s door. Their presence is shocking, not because they are doing their job but because they altered their routine.
The guards at Meadow Fields follow procedures to the T, never varying from the routine. That is why I am visiting Dexter’s room under the cloak of darkness, because I knew the hallways would be empty since the staff is in the process of bringing on a new shift. For them to be outside Dexter’s room, something must be wrong—horribly wrong.
Since Dexter’s blood is roaring through his body, I am unable to hear what the guards are whispering. Whatever it is, it must be unpleasant, as the longer they talk, the faster Dexter’s heart pulses. It also lessens the heavy rod nestled between my legs.
Dexter’s crazy heart rate only slows when the shadows disappear from his door a few minutes later. Mine remains high. It is expected since Dexter’s focus has returned to me. He is an extremely handsome man, but no amount of charm can hide black insides. I’ve tried to conceal mine for years. I’ve never been successful.
“I’m going to remove my hand. Don’t scream.”
His raspy voice makes the lack of oxygen in my body more noticeable. Because his request is more a demand than a question, he doesn’t wait for me to respond. He slowly drops his hand from my mouth, bringing it to within an inch of my breast. The frantic thrust of my lungs brings our bodies closer with every gulp I take, but the harder I struggle to control my breathing, the more worked up my lungs become.
Within seconds, my erect nipples are scraping Dexter’s firm chest. The sensation is odd, a feeling I’ve never experienced. It is like a zap of electricity is surging through my body before doing weird things to the ungodly womanhood between my legs. It feels nice but naughty at the same time.
I sink into the mattress, conscious my love wouldn’t like me being this close to another man, much less having the wicked thoughts I am. A little voice inside me whines when Dexter rolls off me a few seconds later. It is the naughty one I’m not allowed to listen to.
Although Dexter appears as confused as me, his focus remains clear. “How did you get in my room?”
