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But wait, that’s not right. Gage doesn’t mean me harm. On the contrary, he promised me that no harm would come to me while I was with him.
My head is spinning with confusion. Our kidnapper-victim dynamic is seriously fucked up.
The bathroom door clicks open, and Gage comes striding out, only now he’s wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.
My heart rate ticks up a notch. I can now see all the ink covering one full arm and some of his chest. His muscles are hard and well-defined, and I can’t keep my eyes from trailing down over them to the V that disappears beneath his boxers.
The man is a god. Sculpted from marble, he can’t be of this world. He’s dangerously handsome, and I feel my cheeks flame again when my eyes finally flick back up to his face to find those ice blue eyes piercing me again.
I pull the covers closer to me under my chin to cover my nudity as he closes the space between us.
It’s no use, though, because with one motion, he effectively pulls it from my grasp. Then, he slips into the bed beside me, laying on his side. He arranges me on my side before pulling me back against him, my back flush against his chest, his heavy arm wrapped firmly around me.
The only thing separating us is his boxers and my panties.
And I feel how long and thick that part of him is again. I don’t even want to think about what that means or my body’s traitorous response to him.
I lay there stiffly, too embarrassed to say a word. I’ve just gone further with my kidnapper than any boyfriend I’ve ever had.
My mind races. What is he doing? Does he really intend to spoon with me all night?
“Relax, Ava,” his voice is hot against my ear. “We’re just going to sleep.”
“Sleep?” I repeat stupidly.
I can hear the amusement in his tone when he answers. “Yes, unless you want to engage in other activities.”
“No,” I answer quickly. “I’m good.”
He chuckles, the vibrations from his chest echoing into my back. God, he’s so huge, completely wrapped around me like this. There’s no way I can go anywhere if I try. And I suddenly realize that’s probably the point of this. It’s the only way he can sleep and assure I don’t slip away—short of tying me up or doing any of the normal things kidnappers do, which for some reason, he seems averse to doing.
I just know I’m not going to be able to sleep with this hulk of a man wrapped around me, but after a while, his warm body heat begins to feel comforting. As much as I hate to admit it, I like the feel of his full-body hug. Oddly enough, I feel safe in his embrace, and that’s the most fucked-up thing of all.
He’s the one I need saving from.
