Instead, with the clear threat of the foxglove whispering against my skin, I lose myself in Connor as I kiss him back.
If there was one thing that I refused to let any of my previous captors do, it was kiss me. That was an intimacy that seemed even crueler. It was… not easy, butsimplerto go along with the assault because that’s all it was. They were using my body to get off the only way they could. There was no reason for any of them to put their lips near mine, especially after they had their dicks in my mouth.
But Connor… when he’s kissing me, I can almost forget that staying here with him… it’s not my choice. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t want it. And yet, stuck between his warm chest and the cool wall at my back, I’m not a passive participant in this kiss. I give him what he wants because, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that when men take, it hurts if you don’t give in.
If it wasn’t for the foxglove and the threat it represents, I might’ve even enjoyed this kiss. It helps that Connor isn’t being forceful. He doesn’t crush his mouth to mine. Doesn’t grab my face. Doesn’t make me open up for him. His lips brush mine softly, almost carefully, like he knows how easy it would be for me to shatter, and he refuses to be the thing that breaks me completely.
Too late, baby. I was broken when you stole me from that warehouse.
Does he realize that? I’m not sure he does. Connor makes a low sound of pleasure in his throat, and when he draws back, his forehead brushes mine for a heartbeat. His deep blue eyes are bright, almost pleased, as if the fact that I kissed him meantsomething other than I was frightened he might poison me if I tried to fight him off.
In the next heartbeat, his entire expression shifts. His smile slips off of his face, his cheeks jut out as he sucks in a breath, and his eyes… they turn frantic as he takes in my shallow breathing, my tight body, and the way I’m watching the bob of the purple bells out of the corner of my eye.
Because it’s still there. The foxglove is pressed against my cheek, and Connor is the one holding it in place.
During those forty-three days in captivity, I fought for so long. So hard. But there came a moment when I had to accept that even the best fighters know when to lay down their weapons. Be a good girl and it’ll be over soon. Do what you’re told and it won’t be so bad. I tried, and I learned, and they were all fucking liars.
Connor lies, too. He said he would never hurt me. He said he would neverforceme. He said helovesme, and that I’m his… but there’s someone beautiful and dangerous in this small room—just like the foxglove—only it isn’t me.
It’s Connor Heyward.
I’m barely breathing, hoping he’ll remove the foxglove from my skin. Connor follows my gaze to the flower, then back to me. Understanding hits him so visibly that, for a second, he looks almost sick.
“Oh.” Forget sick. He lookshorrified. “Shit. No. You think I’m threatening you. With the flower… oh, Haven, no.”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to.
The silence says it all for me.
Connor lowers the flower immediately. “Jesus Christ. I’m such a fucking idiot.”
He drags his free hand over his face, the foxglove drooping forgotten at his side. For the first time since he moved me intothe basement, he looks rattled. Not amused. Not smug. Not pleased with himself and my reaction.
Scared.
“Haven, no. Baby,no. It’s not like that.”
I don’t believe him. Why would I?
The flowerispoisonous. I’m trapped with this deranged monster, and I’m finally beginning to understand just how obsessed he is with the thought of owning the old Haven Smith—even if it means he has to struggle to make something of the woman I am now.
Seriously, Connor. Whatelseam I supposed to think?
Connor exhales, the sound almost like a laugh, but definitely not a happy one. More like he can’t believe how badly he screwed this up.
“That wasn’t a threat,” he says, and he sounds earnest enough, I wish I could believe him. And then he says, “That was meflirtingwith you,” and all I can do is stare at him in disbelief.
Flirting?
I mouth the word:Flirting?
Connor gestures at the foxglove, then at me, before placing his palm to his chest. “As God as my witness, sweetheart, I was trying to be romantic. I fucking mean it. I thought you’d think I was being so smooth, pointing out how beautiful and dangerous you are, just like the foxglove. I never meant for you to think I’d ever use it against you.”
My expression tell hims exactly what I think ofthat.
He huffs out a breath and shakes his head. “Yeah. Okay. I can see how badly that landed. But it’s true. It’s for the same reason that I don’t drop some weedkiller in the window well to get rid of them. I like these flowers. I was telling the truth before. They remind me of you.”
Connor lifts the stem again, though this time he keeps it away from my skin. “This flower reminds me of the Haven I’ve always loved. Strong.”
