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“I blamed myself for my mother’s depression. I blamed myself for my family falling apart. I was an unhappy teen, my life was in turmoil. My mother, she’s sick, really sick and we’ve been through a lot when it comes to her. I just ... felt like I had no way out.”
He leans down, pressing his lips to the scar.
“I couldn’t take the agony anymore. It was all just too much. One afternoon ... I smashed the window in the bathroom, and I sliced my stomach up so badly I nearly died. It was only that my sister came over and found me, by complete accident, otherwise I would be dead.”
“Willow ...”
“I’m a broken candle, Jagger. You can’t reignite a flame that’s no longer there.”
“Everything can be fixed. Everything. Tell me about your nightmares.”
I shudder, wishing he didn’t bring that up. “When I was four, my mother tried to kill me.”
Best to just rip the bandaid off.
He sucks in a breath and his body stills. “What?”
“She thought it was for the best. She was sick, and she thought people would hurt me when she wasn’t around. So, she thought she would do whatever she could to prevent that from happening. She’s very unwell.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
And yet, here I am, in another situation I can’t control.
Only this one ... It doesn’t feel so bad.
“ARE YOU HUNGRY?” JAGGER asks, after a few hours of us just lying there, being one hundred percent ourselves.
Something that hasn’t happened before.
My stomach growls in answer, and he snorts. He gets up and pulls on his jeans. I stare with pure female appreciation at the ass that fills out those jeans and the body that ripples when he moves. Jagger is so fucking gorgeous, and the worst part is, he knows it. When he walks out, I lie for a moment more before getting up and dressing myself. When I walk into the kitchen, he’s digging through the cupboards.
“What do you want?”
I raise my brows. “You can cook?”
He grunts and turns to give me a look. “No.”
“How did you survive before you kidnapped me and forced me to feed you?” I say, playfully.
“Frozen meals.”
I scrunch up my nose. “That’s bad for you.”
“Then get over here and cook me something.”
“No.”
His eyes flash and he walks over to me, putting his hands on my hips and pressing me back into the bench. His lips come down close to mine, and I shiver.
“Are you defying me?”
“I might be.”
“Hmmmmm ....”
His lips graze my neck, and I shudder. I grip his sides, pressing my palms flat against his skin. It’s hot beneath my hands and increases my want. I slide my hands up and around until I find his pecs. I knead them and he groans, nipping my earlobe.
“I can’t go again, you’re gonna kill me.”
“Old man.” I grin.
He huffs and pulls back, and I smile up at him innocently.
“Don’t smile at me like that.”
“I’ll stop smiling at you when you feed me.”
He turns with a snort and pulls out some bread, ham, and cheese. He whips together some sandwiches and hands me one. I’m so hungry this is gourmet. I bring it to my mouth and take a bite, moaning as my stomach rumbles with appreciation.
“Mmmmm, the simple ham sandwich.” I grin.
“It’s the best I’ve got.”
We eat in silence and talk for a few more hours about our lives and then finally head to bed. I go back to my own room, but I’m okay with it. I’m exhausted and feel like things have finally taken a turn. Will Jagger let me leave now? What does all of this mean for us? I know what we’re doing is twisted and immoral, and it’s probably far from being real, but tonight, it felt real. Our conversation felt real.
I fall into the first deep sleep I’ve had since I’ve been here.
I wake late in the morning, because I roll and feel something sticky between my legs. Opening my eyes, I groan and then reach down, pressing my hands to the wet spot and bringing them up to my face. Blood. Oh sweet Jesus. I never know when I’m going to get a period, and when I do they come on without warning and are very intense. How did I not feel that my period was coming? I haven’t had one since I’ve been here—I should have guessed that it wasn’t far off.
I stand and quickly make my way to the bathroom. I strip off my clothes and get into the shower, washing away the blood. It’s then I realize I don’t have any protection and I’m going to have to go out there, wash my bloodied sheets and ask my captor for god damned tampons. Like this could get any worse!
I finish up in the shower and use some toilet tissue to protect myself until I can ask Jagger for help. I go back into the room once I’m dressed and pull the sheets off the bed, bundling them up, and walk tentatively out into the kitchen. Jagger is standing in a pair of boxers, leaning over the counter looking at his phone. His eyes move up to stare at me when I appear.
