Page 43 of Captive

He acts offended. “I don’t pretend to work. Believe it or not, I do actually get more work done when I don’t hear you three stomping around the house like elephants.”

Lifting my eyebrows, I say, “If they really stomped around like elephants, I don’t think they’d be good at what they do. And if I stomped around like an elephant, I wouldn’t be here, either. So try again.”

He sighs. “Please, just go to bed.”

My mischievous side peeks through, and I move my feet off his desk and stand, and in the process, I probably stand a little too close to him. To my surprise, though, he doesn’t immediately take a step back, nor does he immediately look away when I meet his gaze.

“You know, I can think of a few things we could do that would tire us both out and make use of the bed.” I smirk. I can’t help it.

To my surprise, all Hawthorne does is sigh again, and he sets his fingers on the corner of his desk, tapping them there with no rhythm whatsoever. “Abby,” he speaks my name softly, with a gentle shake of his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I can think of a few things.”

That gets him to blush and look away, finally. There’s the Hawthorne I know. And yet… yet he’s not moving away. Weird.

“You should really go,” he whispers, visibly trying to act calm and collected as he turns his head back to me. Less than a foot, less than twelve whole inches between us; we might’ve been close before, but for some reason, right then and there it feels different. The air is thicker. His expression is more intense.

Almost like his willpower is breaking, finally giving way.

I take a teeny step toward him. Now just six inches. “Yeah,” I whisper back. “I probably should. You are a rule follower, after all. You’d never break the rules.” I might sound teasing, tempting—and that’s because I mean to be.

How far can I push him until he breaks? And when he breaks… what’ll it be like? Will he be just as awkward, full of blushing, while getting down and nasty, or will he be like a whole different person once his clothes are off? Honestly, I have no idea, but I’m dying to find out.

And, more than that, it’d be nice to be close to him. Even if it’s just temporarily, it’d be good to forget the reason why I can’t sleep tonight.

After waiting a moment, I add, “Would you?”

Would he break the rules? He was so unhappy when Ezra tattled on me and Royal and what we did at the last kill, and yet it suddenly doesn’t feel so far-fetched to think he might forget those rules and want a taste of little old me.

His gaze falls to the corner of the desk, where his fingers are. He stopped tapping them on the wooden surface, but they remain rooted on the wood, like they’ve become a permanent fixture there. Still, I swear he leans a bit closer to me, even though he doesn’t say a word right away.

Seconds pass, but it feels like minutes. I can’t take the heavy silence or the pensive expression on his face, so I ask, “What’s on your mind? Cat got your tongue or something?” He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s ever speechless.

I’m dying to hear his thoughts. I wish I could peel open his skull and hear them firsthand, because I know I might not be able to trust whatever he tells me. So far, he definitely seems like the kind of man who keeps things close to his chest.

The tension in the room is so thick it’s almost hard to breathe. Or maybe that’s due to how close we stand to each other. With the way he’s angled toward me, the fingers on his left hand still leaning on the corner of his desk, he could easily grab me with his right hand and pull me in, pin me against that same desk and… well, you know.

But would he do something like that? I don’t know. I have my doubts. He is a man of mystery. Less mysterious now that I know what fuels him to this bloody cause, but still mysterious.

Does he want me like I want him? Only one way to find out.

Chapter Nineteen – Hawthorne

What’s on my mind, she asked. It should be simple. It should be nothing more than the feeling of annoyance for her coming in here and refusing to leave. Sure, she supposedly only came in here to offer me the bed for the night, but knowing her, there’s more to it.

And the look she’s currently giving me? The desire in them is hard to miss.

So, what’s on my mind? Something that shouldn’t be. Right now, I’m thinking about one of the comments she made in the beginning—something about sweeping everything off my desk and taking her against it.

Not once have I ever had a thought like that before. It shouldn’t even cross my mind.

It does, though. That thought doesn’t just cross my mind, but it lingers. That thought lingers in the forefront of my mind, so strong and so vivid it makes heat creep up to my cheeks. I stare at my hand on the desk, feeling odd, some type of way I’m unfamiliar with.

This is bad. This is so, so bad. Royal was one thing, but me? I can’t fall for her charm, too. I’d be the biggest hypocrite around.

Granted, all of her explanations as to why it shouldn’t matter so much aren’t wrong… but at the same time, I can’t harp on the rules for everyone else and break them the next moment when I’m feeling painfully weak.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you what’s on my mind,” I whisper, slow in meeting her silvery stare.