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How the fuck am I going to sleep with her and keep my hands to myself? Lucky for us both, I am exhausted.
I pull back the bed’s fluffy down comforter and she slides under it. I remove my own clothes, down to my boxer shorts, and crawl in so I can wrap my arms around her. Sighing, she pushes back into me, and I bury my nose in her hair, clean and fresh, smelling of simple drugstore shampoo in spite of her long night of catering, gunfire, and blood.
Valentin might not have given much thought to what we’re supposed to do with our lovely guest, but to my surprise, I am enjoying her. She’s quite the Christmas present. Now it only she could enjoy herself too.
I may be able to help with that.
* * *
CHAPTERSIX
LILY
The windows are bolted shut.
So, no escaping that way.
I press my ear to the bedroom door. I’m not dressed yet, having woken up alone, still wearing my underwear. Seems that sometime during the night, after I’d finally fallen asleep, Artem bailed on me. Which is fine. Just because I wanted him to stay with me while I dozed off doesn’t mean I wanted to wake up with him.
Criminals and kidnappers are not high on my list of people to hang out with. Even if they are freaking gorgeous hunks of masculinity. Damn them.
And as luck would have it—or wouldn’t have it—the house beyond my bedroom door is full of the voices of my three abductors. So, I won’t be walking out the front door, either.
I spot a robe at the bottom of my bed—clearly, someone was in here while I slept—and pull it on in case someone decides to pay me an unexpected visit. That’s when I look around the room, really for the first time, since the night before when I’d been so distraught. And pissed off.
Not that I’m in that great of a mood right now. It’s just that I’m not seconds away from absolutely losing my shit.
The room is surprisingly nice. Actually, more than nice. It’s amazing. I had no idea kidnapping victims are afforded such nice digs.
The walls are painted in an eggshell-y white with a robin’s egg blue wall just behind the bed. Long silky draperies are tied back from the windows, and there are two corners with overstuffed reading chairs.
The bed itself, a four-poster canopy, is a work of art with sheer fabric draping across the top and down the posts, where it puddles on the floor. The bathroom is outfitted for a queen with a giant tub, stall with multiple shower heads, and marble on the floors and walls. At the far end is a vanity with a chair, and as I get closer, I find it covered with every high-end toiletry and makeup a girl could want. Seriously. This stuff is way better than anything I have at home. How did these things get here? Maybe they were left behind by the last prisoner?
And the whole place is spotlessly clean. Like eat off the floor clean.
It's awesome. And unsettling.
One look out the bathroom window, also secured with bars, tells me where I am. Approximately, anyway. I recognize the rolling hills and thick forests of Upstate New York. I have no idea how far outside the city we are since I passed out on the ride, but there aren’t any other buildings for as far as I can see.
Wonderful. Not only have I been kidnapped but I am also in the middle of nowhere.
I finger the thick, plushy towels stacked on the bathroom shelves before I wander back to the bedroom. The irony of being surrounded by such luxury, while being a prisoner, makes me want to cry. Or laugh. Which one, I’m not sure.
Returning to my room, I plop down on the end of the bed, but immediately jump back to my feet with a shriek. I didn’t realize that Artem’s humiliating spanking would leave me so sore. Reaching under my robe, I find by butt cheeks still warm from his manhandling.
What was that all about, anyway,spankingme? These people are freaking crazy, not that I have any other criminal acquaintances to compare them to. Isn’t it bad enough they’re holding me prisoner? They have to beat my bare bottom too?
And when Artem sat on me, I knew very well he had a giant hard-on.
Damn pervert.
But was I any better?
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit the act of having my bare butt exposed to the three men, as well as being punished in front of all of them, gave me a little bit of a tingledown there.
Okay, it wasn’t alittletingle. It wasa lotof tingle.
So this time, I lower myself to the bed carefully, spreading the soft robe under my bum for a smooth cushion, and run my hand over the bazillion-thread count sheets and duvet cover I snuggled in all night. I never before understood the appeal of fancy sheets, but after one night in such luxury, I think I might be a convert. This stuff is definitelynotfrom Target.
