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Fine, if she didn’t want a hot shower, I wasn’t going to force her. But I did need to check her head.
I whirled around and this time she couldn’t escape me. She squirmed as my hands pressed against her cheeks and angled her face upward.
“What are you…” the panicked words flew out of her mouth as I looked her over.
“I’m checking your head.” The gash above her eyebrow was completely scabbed over and the swelling had gone down. The purple and blue had given away to faded bruising underneath her right eye and the dried blood looked rubbed off in some places. Satisfied, my hands slid from her cheeks, down the curve of her neck, to rest on her thin shoulders. A flush spread across her cheeks as she gulped down her fear. God, she looked fucking beautiful when she was terrified. I cleared my throat, “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother.”
I chuckled, the fire in her voice echoed in her wild eyes. Pressed into the corner of her cell, she stood defensive as if she were ready to strike at any moment. Only looking closely did I see the way her fingers trembled and the rising and falling of her chest gave away her labored breathing. I lifted my hands once again and backed off, her shoulders relaxing as I neared the door.
On the ground was the tray I had seen Matteo bring her last night, the food completely untouched. I clenched my jaw. “I’ll be back with some food.”
Half an hour later, I typed in the code of the door, balancing a warm plate against my chest. I wasn’t sure how appetizing the heap of leftovers would be but they were better than going hungry— and she was a captive after all. Beggars can’t be choosers. A bed of rice spread over the wide porcelain with steamed vegetables and a steak I precut.
I caught her mid-stride, her hands pulled into her chest with that same furious look on her face.
Her features softened and she took a step closer, her eyes taking in the plate. Something similar to pride swelled within me and my lips pulled into a smirk. After all that hard bravado she put on about a shower, there was no way she would turn down a plate of hot food. She must have been starving. “Here,” I offered.
She came right up to the plate, her hands reaching out before her face morphed again, her eyes darkening as they met mine. “Go to hell.”
With a swipe, she slammed the plate to the ground, food and shards splattering around our feet with a crash that lasted near thirty seconds.
“Goddammit,” I roared as anger seared through me. She stepped away, flinching, her bare feet barely missing a shard on the ground. Fear swallowed the dainty features on her face and with each clumsy step she took, my gut twisted waiting for her to cut herself.
Until I couldn’t stand it any longer.
I surged forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against me. Her breath caught until she recovered and beat against my chest like a wild animal.
“Let me go!” I walked us forward until her back landed against the cold concrete and I pressed her hands above her head to stop the onslaught. “Let go of me,” she cried out again, wiggling her body to try and break free.
My grip tightened and I pressed my body flush against hers. Blood pooled low until my cock was straining in my pants, desperate for more friction against my obsession.
For a second, Darya stopped squirming and her eyes locked with mine. The emerald flecks glowed as realization trickled through her bones and her struggling renewed– this time as an effort to get away from the searing chemistry between us.
I chuckled, leaning in close as she fought against me. “You keep moving and I’ll never let you go. I quite like the way this feels.” She froze again, her eyes widened.
“You’re sick.”
“Maybe,” I mused.
“You’re pathetic.” She turned her face away.
I gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at me. We were inches away and even with the dirt on her clothes, her natural vanilla scent was intoxicating. The deep green in her eyes popped against her soft skin and the dark hair that hung well past her thin shoulders. She was just a whisper of a thing, but the anger flowing out of her heated the room.
“It’s pathetic to refuse comfort,” I rasped. She swallowed hard and I followed her glower at the mess on the floor. “Have you eaten since you got here?”
“Ask your lackeys.” Another pitiful attempt at shoving me off of her only succeeded in rubbing against me, the buds of her nipples dragging against my chest. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinding into her.
“I asked you,” I growled, losing grip on my control. She turned her head until it was buried in her arm, refusing to look up at me.
She was pressing buttons— seeing how far she could go until someone snapped. At this point, it was a battle of wits. Darya wasn’t an idiot and she must have come to the conclusion that we needed her alive for the plan to work. Dead hostages weren’t worth anything. So, the only thing left to do was starve and hope that her body gave out before we were successful.
Hell, I would have been proud of her resolve if it didn’t piss me off to know she was suffering down here.
Get your shit together. She’s a hostage, not yourwife.
“Don’t move,” I warned.
