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She needed comfort.
Fuck.
“Shh.” He rolled over to face her, then wrapped his arm around her small middle and dragged her body against his. “I’ll keep you safe, little one. Rest.”
Slowly, she stilled. Her brow smoothed. Her body relaxed.
His didn’t. He’d splayed his palm across her abdomen. Under his thumb, he could feel the swell of her breast. Her lush ass wriggled against his steely cock. Finally, she sighed, falling back into a deep sleep.
He lay awake for interminable hours, enduring the next-level torture before finally drifting off. His last thought? How the hell would he resist Laila for days—or weeks—before they reached Lafayette and could go their separate ways?
With morning light invading her lids, Laila opened her eyes and stifled a gasp. She didn’t know where she was or what time it was. All she knew was that, for the first time in months, she was lying with a man’s bare chest plastered to her back, his beefy arm constricting her middle, trapping her against his hair-roughened body.
She was in hell again.
Her first instinct was to fight. To kick. To scream. But she had learned the hard way that would either be futile or counterproductive. Instead, she lay frozen.
Inhale. Exhale. Don’t panic. Devise a way to escape.
She glanced around the small bedroom. A window sat less than two feet from her face, taunting her with a view of a parking lot. Beyond that, the sun eked above winter-ravaged trees dotting an empty field. If she could close the distance between her and that wide-open space, she would be free. But she didn’t dare make a move toward the door. Her tormentor was blocking her path.
As terrifying as it was that she couldn’t remember being violated last night, she’d prefer to keep it that way.
Laila risked a glance over her shoulder, but she didn’t find either Hector or Victor. Instead, Trees loomed behind her, taking up most of the bed and snoring softly. Memories fell into place. He had saved her from Victor and gotten her out of Orlando. He had let her shower alone. A glance down proved she was still clothed. A wriggle against his body told her he wore shorts. Maybe the man had merely slept beside her? Looked but not touched?
Then why is he in your bed if he didn’t force his way into your body?
Maybe because he didn’t trust her. Maybe because this was the only bed.
Or maybe because he wants to wake up with a proper screw.
Laila didn’t know. But after last night, she had to at least consider the possibility she was unfairly painting Trees with Victor’s brush. Even so, she had vowed never to be this close to any man again unless it was her choice.
Since Trees was asleep, now was the time to leave his bed. But last night had proved she shouldn’t flee again until she had a plan. Without wheels, weapons, and money, she wouldn’t get far. She had to think, concoct a solid plan to reach her family while keeping herself safe along the way. As soon as she did, she would be gone.
She refused to trust her fate to anyone else—especially a man she barely knew, who worked for an organization she didn’t trust.
Slowly, she kicked the covers aside and stood—only to be stopped short by a cuff around her wrist tethering her to the nightstand. But it was nothing standard police-issue. With his line of work, Laila expected Trees to have those. Instead, the restriction around her wrist was made of soft, buttery leather that had been buckled in place and secured with a dangling silver padlock. Its match was attached to the nearby drawer handle.
Laila stared in horror, her heart hammering. She knew all too well what restraints like these were intended for. And Trees had used them to shackle her.
Panic rose. A scream stuck in her throat.
Suddenly, he flattened his big palm across her back. “Take a deep breath, Laila. There’s no reason to be alarmed.”
The hell there wasn’t. “What do you want?”
“To go back to sleep.”
“I am awake.” And not willing to lie beside him again, especially if he was anything like Hector—partial to morning sex, the more against her will the better.
With a sigh, Trees rolled away and sat up. Somehow, the skin he’d been touching moments ago felt cold. Then he lifted his phone from the nightstand, glanced at the time, and stood. “All right. We should probably get on the road anyway.”
That was it? He wasn’t going to demand she spread herself open for him? Or use his superior size and strength to pull her back to the bed to relieve the tenting of his shorts?
“You need the bathroom?” he asked instead.
Yes. But she needed his cuffs gone more. “Please.”
Nodding, he padded toward her. Too late she realized that, in order to release her, he had to come unnervingly close.
