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After what should be an uncomfortably long time but isn’t, Rocky finally lets his fingers slide from my chin and sits next to me.
Close.
“Was it you who followed me?” I blurt out.
Hoping the effect he’s having on me isn’t so obvious.
I want to cry, laugh, and about a dozen other things all at once.
But most of all, I wanna feel him touching me again.
And not just on my chin.
I can feel my hard nipples scratching at my sweater. My nipples are like bullets even though it’s toasty warm on the bed.
Rocky suddenly cocks his ear. Listening to or for things I’m not aware of before he lifts his brow.
He silently whistles air out of his lips as if he’s thinking of the right things to say.
“It was…,” he begins. “But they got to you first. Portello’s men,” he adds bitterly, looking down for a moment.
“I’m not…,” I start to say, but he’s quicker with his hand than I am with my mouth.
Pressing that huge digit of his over my trembling lips, he orders me to keep quiet with a piercing, intense look, a look that fades into a smile of sorts.
The tugging at the edge of his lips tells me he’s happy.
I think.
He’s hard to read, but I’m sure he’s not so close or touchy-feely with every plump kidnapped girl he meets.
The thought of that makes me angry for a second.
The idea of him with anyone else, even if he did kidnap them, isn’t something I can bring myself to even imagine, let alone dwell on.
“I know who you are,” he says, letting some of his perfect teeth show.
The nearest to a smile I think I’m gonna get from this guy as he tells me.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, letting his eyes move down my face to my neck.
Unashamed as he groans with pleasure looking at my breasts.
His fingers slid to the edge of the covers, moving them back roughly so he could see better.
Instead of slapping him or feeling scared, I’m waiting for him to do what I know he wants.
My heart sings in my ears, the tingle between my legs throbbing into a full quake as I ache for his touch again.
Touching me somewhere I know will make us both happy.
But he doesn’t.
He only looks, growls, and repeats that word.
“Mine.”
I’m really not sure if he wants me to say anything or just avoid the topic of who I really am, but I can’t just sit here.
