This is bad.
Verybad.
You do not get kidnapped by a woman and wake up thinking that she feels right in your arms. It has to be my brain trying to protect me or something. Her glasses rest on the bedside table, abandoned for contacts most of the time since we’ve been here. I like the glasses on her. They suit her.
God, I’m more messed up than I thought.
I tell myself, firmly, that I’ve lost my mind. Stress has done something weird to my brain, and my nervous system has latched onto the nearest source of warmth and comfort like a traitor.
And yet.
I can’t pull away.
Maggie shifts in her sleep, pressing her lovely arse back against me. When fingers tighten slightly on my arm, my chest gives a stupid little lurch.
Eventually, my bladder forces the issue.
I extract myself from the bed like I’m diffusing a bomb, freezing when she makes an unhappy groan. Thankfully, she rolls onto her side, one arm flopping into the space I’ve abandoned.
She doesn’t wake. Her curls fall across her face as she settles back to sleep.
I head towards the bathroom and relieve myself before washing my hands and face, and on the way back, I see something poking out from behind the mantelpiece clock. A gleam of something metallic.
Her car keys.
My heart jumps into my throat.
This is it. This is my way out. It’s early, and everyone is asleep. People will be coming and going with wedding prep. Could I do it?
I could be dressed and downstairs in minutes. Even if I didn’t get far, at least I’d be doing something.
I pick up the keys. Running a thumb over the fob. Sneaking glances at Maggie’s sleeping form, I pull on my clothes and shoes before opening the bedroom door an inch.
Then I look back.
Maggie is sprawled diagonally across the bed now, hair a riot, face slack with sleep. All the tension she carries around has slipped away. She looks so much softer like this.
And then a thought hits me, sharp and hard.Are you really going to leave her to Eddie?
To his creepy glances and his cock-sure determination to have her. The way he spoke to her like he owned her. To a family who has promised her to this maniac. To a wedding she doesn’t want because it’s better for everyone but her.
My chest tightens, and I swear under my breath. Putting the keys back exactly where I found them, I kick off my shoes and trousers, tug my shirt over my head, and climb back into bed, wrapping myself back in her soft heat.
She sighs, nestling closer like she’s been waiting for me, and settles immediately.
I close my eyes and breathe her in, all her lemony softness.
You’re fucked.
The evening card game is surprisingly loud for the number of people in the room. I’m wedged between Maggie and Eliza, like the ham in a crackling sandwich.
Fraser sits opposite, hood up despite the roaring fire. Eliza is an absolute card shark, as expected. Evan is both jolly and utterly ruthless, while Priscilla sticks to him like glue.
And then there’s Eddie.
Eddie watches Maggie like a hawk.
It’s like he catalogues every laugh. Every movement. His attention follows her, making my skin crawl. He barely acknowledges me, which suits me fine.
